Out Of Time
by Lyzzybelle
Summary: After surviving the First and losing Spike in the battle, Buffy begins to see Spike in mirrors and she gets glimpses of his life. At first she thinks she's crazy...but what if Mirror Spike isn't just her imagination? And what happens when she travels to England and ends up in William Pratt's former residence? Rated M...because it's Spuffy and who knows what will happen...
1. Mirror, Mirror

**A/N: thank you to my Beta Spikes Real Lover- she's the best!**

**So, once again I got a visit from the Plot Bunny (shh…don't tell Anya!) and this story was born. Just the first chapter for now and a rough outline in my head. However, this story will be in competition with some of my other WIPs, so updates may be sporadic. Still, I appreciate any reviews and smile with delight at any "Alerts" and "Favorite Story". It might take time, but I don't intend to abandon it.**

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**Chapter 1 - Mirror Mirror**

The first time it happened was the day after Sunnydale collapsed.

Robin drove the bus north along I-5 for about two hours, until he noticed the gas gauge was dangerously close to empty. He pulled over at the nearest exit and drove to the first motel on the right hand side of the street.

The post-fight euphoria had wound down. Talks of shoe-shopping had turned to shopping for more practical items such as ace bandages, antiseptic and gauze. As the talk wound down, Buffy could only look at her hands.

Giles went into the motel to take care of the rooms while Andrew and Dawn went across the street to the Rite Aid to purchase supplies. Faith checked on Robin, berating him for waiting so long before stopping while he stubbornly insisted he was fine. Buffy, Xander and the rest of the girls stepped out of the bus.

Buffy tuned out most of the chatter around her as the girls asked "_Where are we?"_ and "_Where are we going?"_ Buffy's thoughts were so jumbled she couldn't focus on anything in particular. She looked down at her hands again, cataloged each bloody gash and scrape, each shredded nail.

But no burns.

_Shouldn't there be blisters and burn marks?_ _His_ hand burned, his whole body had gone up in flames and she had held on as long as she could before running out of the basement. Why couldn't she carry burns?

_Didn't she owe him burns_?

Dawn and Andrew returned and Giles strode out from the motel office with a handful of keys. At some point during their shopping trip, Dawn and Andrew had devised a plan for treating each member of their group.

Buffy was first, Dawn announced. Everyone nodded, no one was surprised.

Dawn took her key and her hand and escorted her to her room. Andrew followed, carrying handfuls of white plastic bags.

Buffy wanted to protest. She wanted to shut them both out and just lie down and sleep. Yet when she looked at her sister's wide blue eyes and saw the concern in them, she relented. She had made the mistake of shutting her sister out before and she was determined to not make that mistake again. Instead, she found the energy to give Dawn a half-hearted smile as her sister gently cleaned her scrapes and gashes with the antiseptic.

When Dawn voiced her concern Buffy told her that she was fine, just tired.

Dawn made Andrew turn around as she raised Buffy's shirt to inspect her stomach for injuries. She gasped with shock over the ragged, puckered flesh that had already started on the path of healing.

She asked "How?" and "Why?" but Buffy had no answer, she simply shrugged as she lay back on the bed and rolled in between the cool sheets. She raised a hand to Dawn's face and was rewarded when her younger sister smiled a beautiful smile full of relief.

"We really survived, didn't we Buffy?" she said tremulously.

Finally knowing the right words to say, Buffy smiled. "We really did, Dawnie."

"You're tired. I … we - Andrew and I - are going to take care of the others now."

Buffy nodded and listened to the duo as they gathered up their bags.

Just before Dawn opened the door Buffy sat up and yelled, "Dawn!"

Dawn dropped her bags and was at Buffy's side in a second. "What? Are you in pain?" Worry clouded her features and Buffy took a shaky breath.

"I'm okay. I'm sorry, it's just -" Panicked, Buffy reached down and grabbed her sister's hand. "Dawnie, I love you. Okay? I just wanted you to know, I love you." _Please believe me. Please believe me_, she pleaded inwardly, fearful that her sister would look at her with sadness and say _No you don't._

Dawn smiled. "I love you too Buffy." Then she was gone. And Buffy was alone.

She slept restlessly from the early afternoon and well into the next morning. Every sound seemed to wake her - the quiet murmurs of Willow and Kennedy in the room next to hers, the excited voices of Vi and another Slayer - who she assumed was Cho-Ahn (since half the conversation seemed to be in English and the other in Chinese). Both voices were excited and each girl seemed to be trying to recount the fight.

"Shuo yachi?" Vi repeated.

"Shuo. Yachi." Cho- Ahn carefully enunciated each word. She must have added a visual for clarification.

"Oh" Buffy listened to the sound of Vi as she giggled. "Very _big_ teeth."

Buffy dozed off.

The sounds got quieter. Dawn crept softly into the room and Buffy listened to the sounds of the shower as she drifted back to sleep.

Later, she woke to an empty room. She stretched and grimaced slightly when she felt the pull on her stomach muscles. Cautiously, she pulled up her shirt and gently explored the red, puckered area. Then it hit her.

_I_ _should have died_, Buffy thought.

No one should be able to survive a mortal wound - by the very definition, it was a _mortal wound_. If _she_ had died, she knew deep in her gut, that _he_ would have crawled his way to her while the walls and ceiling collapsed around them. _He_ wouldn't have left her to die alone. He would have held her in his arms as he burned up from the inside out, saying some smart-ass remark.

"S_ee you on the flip side, Slayer". _Yeah, that sounded like him.

She frowned. Maybe not. He was so sure he would ride the highway into Hell... but surely his sacrifice wouldn't go unnoticed? The thought of him being overlooked by the Powers That Be made the acid in her stomach churn. A champion didn't deserve that...

She swung her legs off the bed and stood, taking a moment for the lightheaded feeling to pass before making her way into the bathroom.

In the shower she washed the layers of grime of the fight from her body, scrubbed her arms and legs. She refused to give into the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply through her nose and tipped her head backwards into the steaming spray to wash the suds away. _Lather, rinse, repeat_. It was her fourth repeat and she thought she might finally be clean.

She turned off the spray, squeezed some of the water from her hair and grabbed some of the large white towels from the rack beside the shower. She wrapped one towel around her body and another around her head. She stepped out of the shower and walked to the mirror over the bathroom sink.

The mirror was cloudy, opaque with steam, and she swiped a hand across the mirror until she saw her image. She took her time, dispassionately staring at the image in front of her. Here, while alone in the bathroom, she could tell herself all of the hateful things she thought, things she couldn't dare say out loud in front of her friends, the poten- _no, not potentials, _she reminded herself - Slayers, they were all Slayers.

"You are awful." She told herself. "How could you?"

Her words seemed loud in the quiet of the bathroom. It wasn't enough. She pulled the towel from her head and watched as her hair fell in wet waves. She leaned forward in the mirror, placed her palms on the counter until she was nose to nose with her image.

"You are a disgusting evil thing! How can you stand to even look at yourself?" She stopped and tilted her head. She had heard a weird echo in the bathroom as her words were repeated in an odd, distorted way. Her words, but not her voice...

Then it happened.

She watched as her green eyes changed until they became blue; the shape of her face changed, hollowing out slightly in some areas and cheekbones jutting out sharply in others. Her hair receded, the length slowly retracting while the color changed and became bleached blonde and slicked back. She wasn't looking at her face anymore.

It was Spike. She whirled around-

* * *

- and looked behind himself.

"Buffy?" Spike said.

Of course she wasn't there and he stamped down the insane hope that curled in his belly. Yet, it some cruel way, he could swear he heard her voice gasp "Spike?"

He had been walking by the mirror after stepping out of the shower. He had swiped away some of the steam and looked at empty bathroom. He had no reflection because – well , duh, vampire. Filled with loathing and disgust, he spoke to the mirror. She was gone, dead and he had left Sunnydale in the early hours of the morning because he couldn't bear the place. Buffy was everywhere in that town, and the memories - were too much.

He found this place just before sunrise.

Slowly, he turned until he could see the reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. She was still there, in an awful parody of his reflection. He raised a hand to his head to run his fingers through his head, stopping his hand in mid-air when he saw the Buffy in the mirror do the same.

Slowly he dropped his hand and Mirror-Buffy did the same. He twisted his hand and watched his- no _her_ – hand in the mirror as it did the same. Her hand looked raw, knuckles were scraped, nails ragged. Her arms were marked by long gashes, thin scrapes and bruises everywhere. Then he looked at her face, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.

"You look awful." Was the first thing he said and then heard her voice, muffled and oddly distorted, repeat the words a scant second later. His lips twisted bitterly and he saw hers do the same.

"You should see the other person." He said automatically, as if she were really there, in front of him. Once again he heard the weird echo of her voice. He sighed and her image did the same. "I know it's not possible, but …" they both stopped and he looked into her green eyes. He knew it was a mirage then, the love in her eyes...

"You're a sight for sore eyes." He said softly. Her lips moved at the same time and her voice echoed back. He choked down a sob, felt his eyes fill with moisture and hung his head.

"All aboard the Crazy Train. Next stop Looneyville." He said to himself. The weird Buffy echo repeated his words back to him.

He closed his eyes and raised his head, too afraid, and too filled with hope to look into the mirror. What if she was gone? Despair filled him at the thought. She was dead, and the logical part of his brain knew that. But, if he was going crazy because she was appearing in mirrors, then he could embrace insanity with open arms and never let go.

He would believe in anything to have her back, even if it was just as a figment of his imagination.

He opened one eye and almost passed out with relief when one green orb stared back at him. She, too, had her fingers splayed across her face. Tears sparkled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. He reached out with a hand and touched the smooth surface of the mirror, wishing that it really was her face he could touch. In the mirror, their fingertips touched.

"I know you're dead." They both said.

He looked at her eyes and saw the same startled expression in her eyes. He was overcome by a wave of guilt. He promised her that he would take care of Dawn and what does he do? Not even two days after her funeral and he left the Bit because he was having a difficult time dealing. That's why she was here, that's why he could see her in this mirror. This phantom-Buffy was here to remind him of his promise. Spike knew then that he needed to go back to Sunnydale and back to Dawn. He had promised Buffy he would always look after her kid sis and Spike always kept his promises.

He leaned close to the mirror again until he was nose to nose with _her_. He needed her to believe these next words, even if she wasn't real, even if she was only a-

* * *

- figment of her imagination. She had to make him believe.

"I meant what I said." She said fiercely looking into his blue eyes, watching as they showed the same intensity she felt. She heard the muffled distortion of Spike's voice repeat the same words. Then the mirror clouded over with steam. She choked back another sob and said brokenly "I love you, Spike."

Then, clear as a bell, she heard his voice say brokenly. "I love you, Slayer." It was if he was standing next to her.

Maybe it really was him in the mirror. Maybe, she wasn't crazy…

Tears streamed down her face and sobs shuddering through her body, she reached out and frantically wiped the foggy condensation from the mirror. Until she saw –

* * *

- nothing.

No reflection. Just an empty bathroom. He clenched his fists on the counter and looked into the mirror, anger and pain threatening to explode out of him. He took his fist and punched through the glass, not feeling the glass as it sliced through his fist as –

* * *

- the glass shattered and shards rained all over the counter.

She stood and gazed at the empty space on the wall where the mirror once rested. She heard the pounding on the door and Willow's muffled voice coming from the other side of the connecting door. For a moment, hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. Maybe she was crazy. Willow continued knocking, and then Buffy heard Willow muttering in a soft voice. The door opened and Willow came into Buffy's room.

"Buffy? What happened?"

The hysterical laughter burst through her lips and Buffy slapped a hand over her mouth at the sound.

"Goddess, there's glass everywhere. Buffy, don't move!" Willow commanded and looked over her shoulder, "Kennedy, can you find a broom?"

Buffy ignored them and continued to stand and stare at the empty space on the wall where the mirror had been. She wasn't sure how long she stood, while Willow and Kennedy cleaned around her - seconds, minutes, hours…it didn't matter.

Later, after the mess was cleaned up, she got dressed and made her way to the motel office. She asked to speak to the manager, knowing that she needed to let them know about the mirror she had broken.

The front desk attendant told her the manager was out, but he expected her to be back from her lunch in a few minutes.

Buffy said she didn't mind waiting and took a seat. Idly, she looked around the small office, taking in small details - the vase of fresh flowers on the small table near the loveseat that she sat upon, the celebrity magazines spread out in front of the vase, the large mirror behind the front desk...

She looked at the mirror and stared at the room reflection. The sun shined through the windows and caused the fresh white carnations in the vase glow, as did her reflection. Then the hairs on her arm seemed to stand up and another image slowly replaced hers.

Mirror Spike was back.

* * *

_Bloody Hell, I'm really losing it. _Spike watched Mirror-Buffy as she regarded him with fathomless green eyes. She still looked awful. She had lost so much weight. Being dead would do that to a person, he figured. She had huge circles under her eyes. She wore a pair of jeans and a hideous yellow t-shirt that read "My Sister Went to California and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt." _So, even figments of imagination change clothes once in a while._

The manager had stepped out for a moment and he was alone in the office. He stood, unsurprised when Mirror-Buffy also rose. Simultaneously, they walked backwards until he had a head to toe view of her. His eyes roamed over her body, once again drinking in the sight of her.

Yep. Insanity was welcomed if this was the view he got every time he looked in the mirror. Of course, real-life Buffy _never_ looked at him with this open and almost greedy expression. _Oh, how he had wished she had though…_

In fact…

Well, that was weird. He stared straight ahead at the image and, if Mirror-Buffy had followed the rules that his on-the-brink-of-insanity mind had already set up, then she should be looking straight ahead as well. She wasn't. Mirror-Buffy's eyes were moving, up and down and he swore - _he swore _- he could feel her touching him with her eyes. His skin began to tingle.

He forgot himself.

"Like what you see, Pet?" Buffy felt a shock go through her. Startled she looked straight at Mirror-Spike's face and saw his eyes filled with his familiar leer, the cerulean blue eyes sparkled with promise and his tongue curled back in a way that she used to complain was obscene, but always secretly found sexy.

She almost replied back with some cutting remark, out of habit - when she had wanted to punish him for making her want him, for staying when she told him to leave, for daring to love her and make her feel.

_This time, I could tell the truth._

"Always." The word slipped from her lips on a sigh.

The flash of pain across his face was so un-expected, but all too familiar. Even with the truth, she could hurt him. Even this figment of her imagination didn't believe her.

The door opened and more sunlight spilled through the office, but in the mirror Buffy realized the room was dark, like it was night. _Some imagination…of course Spike can't walk in daylight, so I make it nighttime in his mirror world._ It was kind of scary, that her mind was going through so much trouble to make him exist.

The manager walked in front of her and Buffy watched her reflection in the mirror. Mirror-Spike watched the woman as well. Buffy frowned and watched as Mirror-Spike did the same. Something was off…

As if there were two separate speakers playing the same song, but one set had a slight delay in relaying the sound, Buffy heard the woman speak.

"I'm told you had a problem with your room?" she said, looking at Buffy expectantly. Buffy tipped her head to the side and looked at the mirror. She could see the back of the manager and Spike's face as his head was tipped to the side as well.

_Very weird._

"No problem. The room was fine, but I caused some damage." Buffy heard her words repeated in the same muffled and distorted Spike voice that she had heard earlier in her bathroom. Once again she tipped her head and met eyes with Mirror Spike.

_Now this is getting freaky._

"Damage? What kind of damage?" the woman asked, _in stereo._

"A broke the mirror in the bathroom. I'll pay for damages." She and Spike said together.

_What the hell? _

* * *

Stay tuned…


	2. Reflections

Disclaimer: Joss is da boss and I am not da Joss

A/N: Thank you to my Beta Spike's Real Lover.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to all those lovely reviewers-Slavegirl, Peaceheather, Ero-Neko-Hime, Bexandthebeast, Joejoe, Mystery Person and Spike is the BIG BAD. You made my day with each review.

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**Chapter 2 – Reflections**

It was disconcerting to say the least. She explained to the Manager about how the mirror broke, but continued to be distracted by the muffled and distorted words being repeated by Mirror-Spike at the same time. The Manager's responses were identical in words, but varied in tone. In fact, the Mirror-Manager's tone seemed…flirtatious?

Which caused Buffy to have the _insane_ urge to pop the bitch in the mouth.

Truly insane.

Mirror-Spike didn't exist; he was created by her crazy, cracked up brain because she was suffering from some form of PTSD and therefore …damn, not only was she on board the crazy-train, it seemed she was also driving it.

"Well, we here at the Weary Wanderer Motel understand that accidents sometimes happen and we appreciate your candor." The Manager told her brusquely flashing Buffy a fleeting, professional smile while the Mirror-Manager gave a breathless giggle and patted the hair on the back of her head. Buffy scowled and the Manager's smile faltered uncertainly. Reaching under the counter, she pulled a large register and plunked into on the counter, the noise echoed in the mirror world. "I will need to get some information from you for insurance purposes."

Buffy nodded, averting her eyes from the mirror as the Mirror-Manager continued to flirt with Spike. She heard his muffled responses but had no desire to see any flirtatious expressions that she imagined crossed his face as he spoke to the Manager. A knot formed in her gut and she berated herself for being jealous. _You are being ridiculous._

"Um…first let me log the date. May 18, 2004" The Manager said to her as she wrote.

"…_May 18, 2002." _The Mirror-Manager echoed.

What the hell? Why is she imagining Spike in 2002?

"Name, address and phone number please?"

"_William Pratt-" _

Her head whipped up and once again they locked eyes in the mirror_. _William Pratt? Silently she mouthed the words to herself. Spike stopped and nodded. _"That's my name. William Pratt…" _He seemed to speak to her, like he had in the bathroom and Buffy had to force down another bout of hysterical laughter. Spike continued, looking back at the Manager. "_No address yet, but I have a post office box."_

"Miss? Miss? I need your name and address please." Buffy tried to focus on the (real) woman standing before her.

Buffy shook her head. "Buffy Anne Summers, 1630 Revello Drive…uh…" she paused, remembering the recent events in Sunnydale. "It's not there anymore. There was an…earthquake or something..." her voice trailed off and her throat burned.

"_Oh, no matter, I will just make a note of it in our log."_ Mirror-Manager said.

"Not there? Oh…I think I heard about that. We felt something yesterday – in fact the news is all abuzz about a town to the south that experienced major devastation…" Buffy nodded and the woman tutted sympathetically.

"_Sir? Sir?"_

"It is horrible. They said the whole town was swallowed and all that is left is a crater."

"_The Fuck?"_

"_Sir?"_

Even through the distorted and muffled sounds of the mirror world, Buffy heard the panic in the Mirror-Manager's voice and looked over.

"_Bloody Hell! What happened?" _Mirror-Spike asked, looking over the shoulder of the Manager and at Buffy.

"_Sir? I don't under-"_

"They said the most of the town was evacuated. I hope everyone made it out safely. Did everyone-" the Manager's words trailed off as she stared at Buffy. Buffy ignored her and looked at Spike, who tilted his head and stared intently.

"Not everyone." She said softly and felt tears fill her eyes. She wished he could step out of her hallucination and hold her. She knew now why she created an untouchable Spike, unable to step out of the mirror world and back into her own. She wasn't worthy.

"Oh dear. I am so sorry. Were you close to –"

"I can't- I can't talk about it." Buffy stared into the mirror and looked away from the yearning in his eyes, the pain in her chest too overwhelming. The Manager quickly wrote into her log book and flipped it around for Buffy to sign. Buffy looked down to sign her name. Tears streamed down her face and as a few splashed across the form she signed, she used her free hand to swipe them away. The Manager gently pushed a box of tissues her way and detached a carbon copy receipt sliding it across the counter.

Taking a tissue Buffy looked up and saw her own reflection staring back from the mirror.

The disappointment was crushing.

She sat on the edge of the bed, facing a large mirror that hung over the small desk, only a scant four feet from the wall. The lights in the room were off, the heavy blinds were shut, but some of the bright light from the outside still managed to steal into her room. Some of the corners of the room were shadowed, but otherwise objects were clearly visible. She sat and stared. She didn't know how long she had been waiting for... something. Yet, no matter how long she stared or how hard she prayed (who prayed for more proof that they were insane?) all she saw was her own form.

A light knock sounded on the door and she made no move to open it. The sound continued, hesitant and unsure then stopped. Buffy exhaled with relief, followed instantly by guilt. She thought about the bathroom and the Manager's office. She sat in the dimming light of her motel room, she looked into the mirror and accepted the truth.

She'd had a little breakdown.

She supposed she was entitled. She had gone up against the First and a gaggle of Uber-Vamps and lived to tell the tale. She had lost people - she might have known some of them longer than others, but they were all _good_ people. Each death wounded her as if it was a burning blade shoved into her gut, re-opening her battle scars. They had been her responsibility, hers to command - she led the battle and they had followed. The survivors had won, but the dead had paid the price.

She wondered bitterly why the price always seemed to be so high.

* * *

Dawn came into the room quietly after the sun had gone down, bringing with her small boxes of Chinese Takeout.

"I knocked earlier, but you must have been sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you, so I brought you back something to eat."

She placed the cartons onto the small round table near the window and Buffy smiled weakly. Worry flashed in her sister's blue eyes.

"Are you feeling better? Your wound…"

Buffy raised her T-shirt and showed her scar- still red and angry looking, but the wound had closed and the swelling had gone down.

"It itches." Buffy shrugged. "It looks worse that it feels."

Dawn nodded. "A few of us were going to a nearby Wal-Mart. We're leaving tomorrow and we all need fresh changes of clothes and food for the road. Do you want to come?"

Buffy hesitated. She wanted to remain alone, in her dark room, hidden away from everyone, and stare into the mirror.

"Y_ou have to go on living…so one of us is living…" _An eternity seemed to have passed from when he had said those words to her more than a year ago.

"It-it's okay, Buffy," Dawn began softly. "I understand if you need some time to…be alone."

Surprised, Buffy looked up at her sister's face and was struck by the maturity and compassion she saw. When had Dawn, the Teen-Drama-Queen, been replaced by this mature young woman? No pouting expression, no censure in her eyes, just acceptance that Buffy might need time alone. Buffy remembered all the times she had wished Dawn had been more like this when she returned from the dead. All the times she resented Dawn's neediness and punished her by withdrawing away even more.

"Shopping with my sister? Shopping? Have you _met_ me?" Buffy pulled up a smile and grabbed her sister's hand. Yes, she might be going crazy and yes, she was grieving, but she resolved that she would never push her sister away again.

* * *

They had all loaded into the school bus and Robin drove them a few miles down the strip of road that was littered with chain restaurants. Buffy stared out of the window at the darkening sky, observing groups of young adults waiting outside of a TGI Fridays and realized she didn't even know what day it was.

She had no clue which town they were in and didn't care. It seemed strange, after the abandoned atmosphere Sunnydale had gained, that life had gone on elsewhere.

Restaurant and bars looked inviting, their windows intact and lacking the spray-painted graffiti that had appeared recently all over Sunnydale. People stood in a long line at the doors of a movie theatre and Buffy scanned the unfamiliar titles on the marquee.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and a gentle squeeze. Giles settled into the seat and slid an arm over her shoulders. For a moment they both looked out the window at the signs of "life goes on".

"They'll never know," he said softly. Buffy hummed in agreement.

"It is all because of you. No- don't shake your head Buffy, it's true."

She stiffened and pulled her body away from his contact. "Not because of me, Giles."

"Don't be modest, Buffy." His lips curved indulgently and her lips tightened in annoyance. "It was your idea for the spell to activate all of the potentials. If you hadn't thought of that and led them down to the basement…"

"We still would have died Giles." Her tone was low, agonized. It was a final bit of truth that she had hid from the others, from herself.

Giles shook his head in protest.

"Yes, Giles. We would have died. We only survived, _the world_ only survived because…" she struggled to breathe, the sounds of her harsh gasps filled the bus and Buffy realized that everyone on the bus was silent.

"It's true, G." Faith was out of her seat, moving towards them. Out of the corner of her eye Buffy noticed a few heads nodding in agreement.

"Don't get me wrong. The spell helped. It was a stroke of genius when Buffy had the idea and that we happened to have someone with us who possessed the power to complete the spell – we were lucky." Faith held a hand up toward Giles when it looked like Giles was going to interrupt. "But you weren't down there Giles. You didn't see what we were up against. There was hundreds of thousands of those Uber-Vamps, all with a desire to bring us down. There were just a handful of us. Yes, we were all powerful and yes we would have fought as long and as hard as we could. But we would have died in the end. The vamps would have come up and the First would have won."

Each Slayer nodded in agreement.

"It was Spike," Vi said quietly.

"Spike." This from Cho-Ann, who continued to speak in Chinese, the cadence of her voice raising and falling in passion and tears slipped from the Asian Slayer's face. Her words were incomprehensible to them, but the emotion behind them was all too readable. Vi hugged Cho-Ann at the end.

"Well said, my sister," Kennedy said. Surprised, Buffy looked over at the Slayer who had never been an advocate for Spike and they shared a sad smile.

The others might not understand, but Buffy knew each Slayer present knew the truth. The only reason that life as they knew it continued was because of the brave actions of their champion.

"We're here." Robin interjected as the bus pulled into the parking lot.

* * *

The superstore seemed overly bright to Buffy. She had never been as aware of her reflection as she had in the last few hours. Who knew Wal-Mart had so many reflective surfaces? Each time she saw her face staring back, she was bitterly disappointed.

A few hours, bags of clothes and toiletries later, Buffy was back in her room. Everyone would be getting up early the next morning and heading the airport. They were flying to New York. A few suggestions had been tossed around and Angel had offered them all accommodations at his hotel, but Kennedy's suggestion of going to her family's estate in New York had blown Angel's out of the water.

Inwardly, she was grateful. She didn't want to see Angel since the last time she had seen him, she had given the impression that they could have a future together. It was only later as she stood on the edge of Hell that she realized that she had been wrong. By then, it was too late. Her selfish words and actions (_Spike had seen them kiss_!) had deeply hurt Spike, a man who already thought himself unworthy of love and reinforced his belief that she didn't mean it when she had said "I love you." She didn't blame him. Three little words couldn't take back years of disdain and insolence.

She wished to see him in the mirror just once more, just so she could tell him "All along, it was me. I wasn't worthy enough for you."

The sky had darkened and the sounds of traffic outside her motel room door had lightened. Buffy was back in her room. The sounds of Slayers and people in the rooms around her had stopped. Dawn was asleep and the unladylike snores that her sister emitted produced the ghost of a smile on Buffy's lips.

She sat up and looked across the length of the bed to the large mirror on the wall. She wasn't sure which option was worse- going crazy or just wishing she was, just so she could hallucinate him again. There was no other explanation. It wasn't like she could prove-

Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized that there was one sure fire way to prove that she _was_ going bat shit crazy and cursed herself for hesitating because of the implications. She shivered under her blankets as a fleeting memory of the mental ward she had "visited" briefly when she was first called.

Soundlessly, she slid from her bed and walked lightly toward the door, careful to not disturb her sleeping sister. Unable to help the slight squeak of the door, she slipped outside and winced when the door closed with a quiet snick (the sound seemed as loud as a gunshot). Purposefully, she made her way down the covered walkway and rounded the corner.

The office door was unlocked, the lights still on at the front desk. She could see the desk attendant looking at his watch before he stood, opened a drawer and removed some items. He walked by the counter, paused and set the small object on the counter that she recognized as a pack of cigarettes. He patted his torso absently and walked back into the office area to grab, what she assumed were matches. He returned shortly, whistling a jaunty tune, grabbed his cigarettes and walked towards the back.

As soon as she couldn't see him anymore, she slid through the door. Casting a quick glance to make sure she was alone, she went behind the counter and ducked her head to look at the shelves underneath. The ledger was easy to spot. She lifted the book and flipped backwards through its pages, searching for invoices that were dated May 2002.

It only took a minute before she found the document.

_William Pratt._ Rm 118 (the same room number as hers), notes about a shattered bathroom mirror and the date – May 18, 2002.

Here it was. Proof of a name that she had never seen or heard before (Well, she had known he was William, but no one had ever mentioned a last name to her). Gently, she traced the signature on the paper. _How was any of this even possible?_

A door slammed somewhere in the back recesses of the office. Buffy ripped the paper from the book, closed it and slid the book back on the shelf, while stuffing the paper in her pocket. She had reached the outer door when the night desk attendant came out of the back. The odor of cigarettes surrounded him like cologne. She marveled at the contradiction – when Spike smelled of cigarettes it seemed sexy and comforting…on this stranger the smell seemed stale and stifling.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Tea?" she smiled weakly as she turned.

"Excuse me?" the front desk attendant looked confused.

"I was hoping you had some tea bags. There is a small coffee maker and coffee in my room, but I don't drink that. Do you have any tea?"

To her surprise, he nodded and gestured to a side table. Two large metal carafes rested on top…one labeled COFFEE and the other HOT WATER. Beside the water was a small basket that held small packets of tea.

"Oh…color me embarrassed. I don't know how I missed that." Quickly, she walked over and poured a cup of hot water and grabbed a packet of Orange Pekoe. She had returned to the door when the man called out to her.

"Miss…miss…you dropped this." He handed her a small piece of paper, the receipt that she had just stolen and stuffed into her jeans must have fallen out. Luckily, he didn't look too closely. She stuffed the paper into her pocket and walked out the door.

* * *

It was two weeks before Buffy saw his reflection again.

"Please? Pleeease?" Dawn looked _down_ (God, would her sister _ever_ stop growing?) at Buffy, her eyes wide and pleading.

"What is wrong with taking the limo?" Buffy asked, shocked that she even took having a limousine at her constant beck and call for granted.

Dawn pushed out her lower lip. "It's New York. We are tourists. Everyone is supposed to do it at least once!"

Buffy, who could stand toe to toe with the most fearsome of creatures without blinking, relented against the power of Dawn's secret weapon – her pout.

Dawn saw the resigned look on her sister's face and vibrated with glee. "Thank you! Thank you!" she said fervently before Buffy could speak a word.

"Yeah. Yeah. I am the best sister in the world. Let me go tell Joe." Buffy walked a few feet toward the limousine that waited for them, the chauffer standing beside the rear door. She said a few words to the man. He nodded and walked towards the driver's side.

"Two hours, Dawnie. We only have two hours, and then we'll have to be back here."

Dawn clapped her hands in response, the grin on her face made her seem every bit the young teenager that she was, rather than the seasoned Scooby she had become. The glee was contagious and Buffy giggled at the sight her sister made as she bounced down the stairway toward the subway.

They purchased tickets, pushed through the turnstile and waited with the other bystanders for the next subway train. Within a few minutes, they were standing in a subway car and moving away from New York City towards Brooklyn.

Dawn smiled and nodded at the people around them and within minutes had struck up a conversation with another teen. Buffy looked out of the window at the famous skyline, absently listening to Dawn chatter away. She slid into a vacant seat and her eyes closed as the car caused her body to sway side to side.

She must have dozed for a moment because when she opened her eyes, the view out of the window changed, daylight was gone and she stared at her reflection in the window. They were in a tunnel. The person next to her shifted and Buffy looked around. They must have stopped briefly, the car had become crowded again. Buffy turned her head and smiled when Dawn waved excitedly to her.

"That's my sister Buffy. She's the best…"

A movement in the glass grabbed Buffy's attention. She looked at the reflective surface and blinked. She knew the car was crowded, but in the mirror like reflection of the window, the car was practically empty – except for one person who stared back at her. He wore a short black leather jacket sprinkled with silver studs over a black t-shirt and jeans with strategically torn holes in the knees. He leaned forward, his eye ringed in black liner widened slightly before his head turned as he looked around himself. Once again, he stared back at Buffy and she watched his mouth move silently forming words.

"_What the fuck?"_

Relief flooded through her and giddiness followed. Something in her expression alarmed him because he scowled back and looked warily around.

"William Pratt." She whispered the name slowly and his head whipped around as if she had shouted the words. His mouth formed words, but she couldn't hear anything beyond the noise of the train on the tracks and the myriad of conversations that carried on around her.

"My champion. My love." She whispered the words again and his expression hardened. His mouth formed words and this time, it was as if he was sitting beside her, the sound of his voice close to her ear.

"Ain't no one's champion, luv. Far from it." His words were harsh and her heart squeezed in response.

"You are my champion." She whispered again.

"No one would ever believe that." He scoffed.

"I believe in you, Spike." Longing flashed across his face just as the subway train escaped the darkness of the tunnel and shot out into the daylight once more. The reflection vanished, Spike with it and Buffy looked away from the view.

* * *

A/N: Apologies for the lack of Spike POV...trust me he will appear again (and soon).

Stay Tuned…


	3. Ricochet

**A/N: dedicated to the following: dedicated to the following: 31r3h, Peaceheather, MaireAilbhne, Spike is the BIG BAD, Rms Thakoer, Seapea, Swoonforsirius, Blade Redwind.**

**Thank you for your reviews. Kudos to Blade for being my sounding board, offering key suggestions and encouragement and for saving my ass with a last minute beta.**

**A/N: In my world the New York subways run 24 hours a day and stop where I want them to - and, if I so desire, move sideways and through wrinkles in time (haha j/k).**

**This chapter was brought to you by James Marsters and his band Ghost of the Robot and their song "Finer Than Gold" *sighs* such a beautiful voice! Thank you ITunes! I am trying to get permission to use some of the lyrics in this fic, cross your fingers that permission will be granted.**

* * *

**Ricochet**

_**New York, 1977**_

He blinked and she was gone.

Vanished, and, with the clarity of a drunken haze, he doubted if she was ever _really_ there in the first place.

Perhaps he had become too comfortable and that was his mistake. Too content and too certain of his place in her life, and now, he was being punished by her absence. No matter how hard he tried, he could never love her _just right._ It was always with _too much_ passion, _too much_ intensity. _Too much_ love.

Love. She had said the word with such scorn, such disdain – and some broken (_wrong)_ part of him wondered why it was so awful to love someone with every fiber of their being.

The subway car took a sharp turn on the track and Spike's thoughts were jolted into the present as his body swayed loosely with the turns. The car was empty, save his inebriated self. He pulled the flask of whiskey from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, unscrewed the cap and took a sip. A few drops spilled onto his tongue from the empty container and he shouted an expletive.

Nothing was going right.

He hated New York. It was supposed to be _their_ new kingdom…they were going to rule the night _together_ - at least that was the plan until that fucker who called himself The Immortal waved his dick around and Dru left him with not so much as a "by your leave".

Again.

_Too painful. Don't think about it._

This time they'd had eight years of blissful depravity and sinful delights and he supposed he should have been grateful; it was the longest she had stayed faithful to him – he had actually started to believe that she had decided he was enough (why wasn't he ever _enough_?). The last time she had left was while they were at Woodstock where he experienced the Vampire version of a psychedelic acid trip and Dru disappeared.

She instinctively seemed to know when he started to feel secure and was unapologetically ruthless in her ability to shatter his illusions.

After Woodstock, in an uncommon display of independence, he headed to Africa on a cargo ship following yet another false Gem of Amara treasure trail. He knew it was a waste of time, but it was a good way to _waste time_ until she came back. She always came back…eventually… and 238 days later, she found him. By then, he had disproved yet another Amara legend and was returning from a disappointing Slayer encounter on the outskirts of Addis Ababa (the Slayer hadn't been called for more than two days, and her hand shook so much from terror at meeting him - she dropped her stake _twice-_ before he told her to stop). Using a few words of Amharic he had picked up, he told her if she lived another two years, they would try again.

He had been at loose ends and, desperate enough for _any_ distraction, he had seriously been tempted to follow up on an interesting rumor regarding a series of trials a bloke could pass in exchange for a reward (_any_ reward) near a village at the base of Kilimanjaro in Tanzania when Dru showed up. Like all of the times before, he let himself be folded into her cold, hard embrace and stifled every confession his un-dead heart wanted to whisper. _I'll do anything. Never leave me again. Please stay. Why am I not good enough?_

Eight years after Woodstock and his trip to Africa, she had left him alone again.

He hated being alone and the feelings of isolation and shame it brought.

_I am not that person anymore._ _I am the thing that makes the night tremble in fear. _ He tipped his flask for more alcohol and scrunched up his mouth in annoyance when he remembered it was empty.

_She'll be back._

The words didn't bring the same reassurance that he used to feel and he decided he needed a diversion. Perhaps it was time to follow up on that old rumor, pass those trials and ask for the Gem of Amara.

Perhaps.

~spuffy~

The next night, he wandered into a smoky, dimly-lit demon bar on 42nd street shortly after sunset looking for a game and hoping for a fight. Spilling blood always raised his spirits. He sauntered into the back room and flung enough cash onto the table to raise more than a few eyebrows, but the collection of demons and hybrids seated around the scarred poker table barely gave the money (and Spike) a glance.

Spike didn't care to be ignored.

"Room for one more?" He pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and shook a cigarette into his hand.

"Your money's no good here, Vampire." A small, squat Fhrewh'ard demon tossed two cards on the table and motioned a stumpy, fingernail-less digit to the dealer.

"Is that a fact?" Spike spoke softly and another demon (Spike couldn't recall the kind of demon he was, but he would have made a Chaos demon look attractive) nodded in agreement.

Irritated, Spike stepped forward and wrenched the head off of the unfortunate demon and the movement caused the demon's body to fall off of its chair. All of the demons at the table paused and looked at Spike as he filled the vacancy.

"Oh look, a space just opened up." He inhaled on his cigarette and his lips twitched at their annoyed expressions.

"Your money is no good here Vampire." The Fhrewh'ard repeated.

"Oi! I'll have you know…"

"Calm down Vampire." The Chipr demon on Spike's left gave an exasperated huff and tilted his wart-covered head at the Fhrewh'ard. "Marv here just meant that we do not play with money. New York has a Slayer, which means our main food source is not so easily available and we've to resort to more…creative methods. Those furry little delicacies-" another warty-head tilt toward a large carton in the corner "will be a delightful treat to the winner."

Spike rose and walked over to the box and stared inside where various hues of blues, greens and browns blinked sleepily at him.

"Kittens? All I need are some kittens?"

The others laughed. "This ain't some two-bit game we run here Blood Drinker, this is a high stakes game…purebloods and rare breeds only." The Chipr licked his warty lips.

Spike noticed the papers on the table, which he realized were being used as a substitute for money.

"I take it this is proof that the little fuzzballs are pure." The others nodded and Spike flashed a smile showing his pearly white (and blunt) teeth. He could have let his demon face out but preferred to use his human face instead. "Well, we all know the rule is 'You keep what you kill', so I'll be playing with my inheritance." He gestured to the rather tall stack of papers in front of the dead demon's seat. Fortunately, he had killed the demon that was winning. "Looks like I am in the game now."

Spike sat down again.

"New York has a Slayer, eh?" He scooped up the cards that had fallen from the deceased demon's fingers when Spike had ripped off its head. It was not unusual for any local demon population to react this way when a Slayer was present as they had an annoying tendency to bring down the death population in their general area. The smart ones left, others kept their noses clean and heads low to avoid unwanted attention and the dumb ones died.

Spike was never one to follow a crowd.

He glanced at his hand, immediately discarded three cards and motioned for more cards. The others grumbled under their breath, but the dealer just blinked his rheumy eyes and sent three cards flying his way.

"So. Tell me about this Slayer…" Spike licked his lips in anticipation as he picked up his new cards. The cards were shit, but news of The Slayer was just the distraction he was looking for until Dru came back to him. If he was lucky, this one would be worth the effort it took to track her down

He hoped she was good. He was looking for a challenge.

Wistfully, he remembered the Chinese Slayer as he rearranged the cards in his hand. Oh what a night! She had been the epitome of single-mindedness - quick, agile and focused with each attack. Fighting her had been like dancing the tango on the edge of a thin tightrope over a bed of wooden nails - erotic, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

He had been so certain that she would have been the death of him and when he won that battle he felt invincible for the first time.

Her Slayer blood had kept him hard for days - Dru didn't even look at Angelus (or any other demon) for most of that time – and it had been a turning point for Spike. Everything seemed to click after that. Angelus had backed off and vanished shortly after (Spike never thought too hard on his grandsire's whereabouts, he was just grateful that Angelus hadn't taken Dru with him). Dru would still take off, but never for longer than a few weeks. No matter where Spike ended up, she would just wander in dreamily, as if she had been enjoying an evening stroll and had forgotten the time. She had never, until Woodstock, stayed away for longer than a few weeks.

Fucking Immortal! He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the sudden recollection of why Dru might have "lost track of time" this time. Fucking pretentious prick! Recklessly, he tossed a few pedigree papers into the pot. "I'll raise you a Himalayan and a Kurilian Bobtail."

"Kurilian Bobtail?" With a disgusted sigh two out of the six demons folded and Spike's lips curved at their muttered "Too rich for my blood" grumblings.

The Chipr, answered with a raise of his own. "Sokoke."

With a grimace, Marv threw down his cards.

Wordlessly, Spike flipped through his stack of papers before selecting six Siamese. He tossed them in to the pot. "So, tell me about this Slayer." He repeated.

He lost the first round and got a description of the Slayer. During the third round, Spike asked if any of the demons present had stood face to face with the Slayer and snickered at the way their faces blanched.

This time it was Marv and Spike who remained in the game. Conversation continued as they raised and countered each other.

"Who would _want_ to go up against a Slayer? Not many do and live to tell the tale, Vampire." More papers tossed into the "kitty". Spike gave his cards a considering look and unconsciously rubbed the scar on his eyebrow.

"Some do." He smiled at the laughter that erupted in the room and lazily rubbed his index finger over the scar. Laughter faded and, in the ensuing silence, Spike's grin widened.

"Plenty around that have killed one slayer. Slayers are like the tails of the Shirati – cut one off and another grows back in its place." Marv grunted and tossed a short stack of papers into the pot. "Now, killing two Slayers, that would be an accomplishment worth bragging about."

The Chipr gave Spike a hard look.

"I've never met a vampire with a scar before. What kind of weapon leaves a scar?" The other's shifted, uncomfortable when Spike placed his cards on the table and pulled another cigarette from his pack. He picked up his lighter and brushed his thumb along the small wheeled flint to ignite a spark. He puffed a few times on his cigarette, letting the flame from the lighter stay on far longer than he needed. A Tarrykez demon, possibly more flammable than Vampires, looked on in fascinated revulsion.

"Blessed sword. Got it in China some years back."

Recognition flickered in the violet eyes of the Chipr. "Lived in China myself for a while. Heard a rumor about some Vampire that went up against the Slayer during the Boxer Rebellion. Slayer died but the Vampire still walked away with a little token of the battle."

All eyes were on Spike.

"Well, I hate to brag…" Spike began, then he chuckled. "Who the hell am I kidding? I _love _to brag!"

By the end of the night, Spike won three hairless Sphinx cats (among others) and bets were placed on whether he would be skillful enough to bag his second Slayer. Spike scooped up his unused cash, his box of felines and took his leave. As he walked out the door, he heard Marv's gravelly voice.

"Remember to bring proof, vampire or the wager is void."

Proof? He could do that.

~spuffy~

He found her the next night.

He followed her through some of the backstreets of The Bronx, discretely at first, gradually closer as he tested her range until her Slayer abilities alerted her to his presence (one hundred feet and some change). He knew the exact moment she became aware – a slight misstep and straightening of her spine followed by a surreptitious glance. Silently, he retreated until she took the bait and hunted him down. He appreciated her stealth and single-mindedness as she stalked him. When he reached the abandoned factories along the waterfront, he stopped until she approached him.

She fought like she had never known anything else, which told him that she knew hardship and had been fighting for far longer than she had been a Slayer. Where the first Slayer had been deadly and precise, this Slayer was resourceful with a brutal right hook. He fought back with less intensity - this wasn't the end battle, it was just more of a skirmish to see what kind of fighter she was (mental note: she favored a right jab with a double-left jab combination).

Nikki wouldn't be the death of him - he didn't feel the same _frisson_ of danger that the first Slayer had given to him - but he wasn't ready for the fight to be over yet.

In their second encounter, their skirmish in the rain brought some kind of excitement back into his life and he had every intention of ending it that night. However, her hits were just a little too wild, a little too desperate - she was good, but there was something about her that told him she wasn't at her best. He left the fight before he killed her, not out of compassion or anything as laughable as that, rather the fight had been far from satisfying and her distraction only irritated him. Besides, knowing there was still another skirmish ahead pushed away the melancholy that surrounded him with Dru away. The longer he could postpone killing the Slayer, the less he felt like _William_ – the pathetic excuse for a man he had been, once upon a time.

The rain poured down in great sheets, soaking through his leather jacket and the thin material of his t-shirt beneath. In a short time, he was below ground. The tunnels were full of vagrants seeking shelter from the storm and he selected a young waif with short russet-colored hair. He suckled her neck, observed the scattered track marks on her thin arms which explained why her blood had the cloying sweetness of syrup, good for a few licks and taste but left an unpleasant after-taste after he drank too much, a result of her drug use.

He still drained her dry of course.

He had lost track of time below ground and guessed the time to be close to midnight when he happened upon the train tracks of an old subway line that lay on the ground. He followed them until they joined with another line. Eventually, he made his way toward a subway station and leapt gracefully onto the deserted platform.

Less than a minute later, he walked into the subway car and sat on the seat. Like the platform, the car was deserted. He pretended that he didn't care, that he wouldn't welcome a little human interaction, even if it was to elicit fear. Fear on a human was like an a drug to vampires that intoxicated while simultaneously brought on a hyperawareness that made the hunt all the more thrilling and, when the prey was drained, left the vamp craving more.

The subway climbed up from below like a giant, segmented worm until it was streaking through the city over the night time traffic.

If Dru were here, he thought wistfully, perhaps he wouldn't feel this shadow of dissatisfaction. He was torn by his feelings – knowing that evil, soulless creatures such as he shouldn't do anything as pathetic as _pine,_ but unable to help the (_loneliness_) bitterness from spilling over, something that would have amused Dru. They were above such human feelings she would remind him, subtlety implying that he was somehow unusual (_wrong_) compared to the rest of their kind.

Like his "queer obsession" (Dru's words) for Slayers. Angelus, Darla and even his beloved midnight goddess couldn't fathom why he sought out Slayers.

Angelus wondered why Spike even bothered. '"Too much risk and not enough reward" he would scoff. Angelus preferred to use his preternatural abilities in the deliberate annihilation of which ever poor bird had become his latest fixation.

Darla preferred to amuse herself similarly, proof that she and Angelus were well matched. She was perfectly content to leave Angelus to his "entertainments" while she sought to pass her time by engaging in the endless pursuit of pleasure; the more depraved the pursuit, the more satisfied she seemed.

It bothered him that they only appeared to put up the slightest pretense of tolerating Dru; they treated her like she was some small pet to be stroked and adored when she was amusing, and kicked to the side when she became bothersome. Dru always ran back to them when they called though; even when Spike tried his best to reason with her Dru would never listen. He understood that Dru would return to them whether he was with her or not, so he followed her the way she followed them in some awful macabre parody.

And yeah—he could see the parallel between Dru's behavior and his own. And like Dru, he didn't care. He would push away the hurt and the pain the second she crooked her elegant, deadly fingers toward him, eager for whatever scrap of affection she choose to bestow. He couldn't blame her. Angelus had her so well trained to be grateful when he showed attention that she thought that was the model of how they were supposed to behave.

Perhaps she was right.

Once again, Spike was the oddity, the source of scorn and ridicule… too ridiculous to even warrant pity. He sought out the Slayers, hoping that the day he got staked would be the day that he finally earned some respect and was proof that he had been _worthy._

Absently, he watched the brightly lit New York skyline and wondered what it was about him that never seemed enough to keep others around. The subway made a few stops, but Spike remained alone. The train descended back into the ground and the lights in the car flashed when they entered the tunnel.

He was staring straight ahead when he saw her reflection. She sat straight up with her head tilted slightly forward, eyes closed. He could see the outline of the NYC skyline behind her head. Certain he was seeing things; he blinked and scanned the area around him.

With the exception of himself, the car was empty.

He looked back at the window and saw the woman's body sway slightly from side to side. The lights in his subway car flashed, as if some had flipped a switch to turn them off. Two seconds later, the lights flashed back on and the woman in the reflection had opened her eyes and was staring straight at him.

As they locked eyes, he was instantly flooded with knowledge about her. He _knew_ this woman. He knew she appeared fragile and helpless but was far from it, and that in her small hands the most innocuous objects could become a deadly weapon. He also knew intimate things: the softness of her lips, the touch of her hands on his skin, how she tasted, smelled and felt pressed against his body. He didn't know her name, but he knew the throaty noises she made when she moaned _his_ name.

An image of her straddling him while he lay on a bed, each arm cuffed to a bedpost flashed in his mind and then disappeared. He leaned forward unconsciously, as if she were right before him. The movement stirred the air around him and for a moment he could _smell_ her. What kind of trick was this? Warily, he looked around and confirmed that the subway car was still empty.

"What the fuck!' he said. Ghosts? Spirits? He had heard of such things of course, but had never met one.

At his words, an expression of such happiness formed on her face and something in his gut responded.

"No use haunting me love…" he started but lost his train of thought as her eyes swept up and down his seated frame and then back to his face. _If my heart could beat, it would break my chest_ he thought, then scowled. That part of him died years ago…_ and she can make me feel like it isn't so…_

If she was tangible and corporeal he would have snapped her neck for making him _feel_ such things... in his whole un-life he had never sunk to such derisible depths. He looked around again, mainly to break contact with her eyes. The silly chit should be petrified of him, not looking at him with veneration.

"William Pratt." The whisper tickled as if she were breathing the words right into his ear.

"What game is this?" he whispered and despised how shaky (_weak_—like William) his voice sounded.

"My champion, my love." Some part of him wanted to weep at her words and brutally (he was _not_ that man any more), he buried it. Consciously, he reminded himself who he was _now_.

"Ain't no one's Champion, luv. Far from it." _And proud of it_ he finished silently.

"You're my champion."

'William the Bloody' a Champion? He snorted in disbelief. This crazy spirit was off her rocker!

"No one would ever believe that." it was the truth. Never - no even as William- had someone likened him to a hero. He met her eyes in the mirrored window and felt a jolt go through him. The lights flashed and she was gone.

~spuffy~

That day, after the dawn, he dreams were haunted by a pair of green eyes, the warm clasp of a small hand in his as he stood in an inferno and light exploded all around him while her sweet voice said three little words that broke his un-dead heart. _I love you._

When he woke, there were tears on his face and, in furious confirmation that William was long gone, he destroyed his hotel room and ripped the throats of the three employees sent to see about the disturbance before he leapt gracefully off the balcony into the alley below.

* * *

**Present day (Buffy)**

After the sisters exited the subway station, they climbed the stairs until they were once again strolling on the sidewalk toward the limousine. Dawn crawled across the backseat first and by the time Buffy settled into the seat, her sister had already pulled her legs up on the seat and rested her head against it. She gave Buffy an exhausted and satisfied smile.

"I had a great time Buffy. Thank you for suggesting a 'Summers Sisters' day out'." She reached out a hand and squeezed Buffy's. "I love Willow and everyone, but sometimes it is nice for it to be the two of us."

Resolved to focus only on her sister, Buffy pushed away her latest "hallucination" and returned her sister's squeeze with her own. At the touch, Dawn's throat closed up as she continued speaking.

"I don't deserve it. Not after…we did that…we…God Buffy, I would give anything to take that back. It was wrong on so many levels and I am so ashamed that I was part of something that hurt you so deeply."

It was not the first time someone had approached Buffy about the way she had been evicted prior to the last battle with the First. When Buffy had returned the morning after she had been evicted from her home by her friends, there had been tentative smiles and half-hearted attempts to address the incident by Willow, Dawn, Xander and Giles. At the time, she had been able to push her emotions to the side and put all of her focus into her strategy with the First. She had brushed them all aside with a simple "It's okay…I understand."

She had assumed that they understood that it was not the time for apologies, not when they had the First on their heels and very little time to put her plan into effect.

She had said the same to Faith, once the Slayer had regained consciousness. As soon as they were alone, Faith looked her in the eye and told her they had been wrong to tell Buffy to leave her house. As she had with the others, Buffy had tried to brush off the apology stating that it wasn't a good time. Faith had simply laughed told her to shove it, she was going to apologize anyway.

Once the battle was over, Buffy assumed that Xander, Willow and Giles would privately take her aside and offer a sincere apology as well. She was saddened when she realized that they had thought there was no need and berated herself for being so petty.

She wasn't angry at them, but she no longer felt she could trust them as blindly as she had in the past.

"Thank you, Dawnie."

It was amazing how her sister's apology lifted a weight from her shoulders. Buffy leaned across the backseat and pulled her sister into a hug. To her surprise, at her touch Dawn's body began to shake and she heard soft shuddering sobs from her sister. Buffy tried to pull back, but Dawn just pulled her closer.

"Dawnie?" she asked. At a loss, Buffy used her palms to rub circles onto her sister's back.

"I don't want to lose you Buffy. You have no idea how sick I have been, worried that you wouldn't want me around because we…because I-I…I wouldn't blame you." She could feel the wetness from Dawn's tears on her neck, and to her surprise, tears filled up her eyes as well.

Buffy took a steadying breath. "It's oka-"

"No! It wasn't." Dawn interjected, shaking her head against Buffy's neck. "It was hateful and spiteful and I was…I _am_ so ashamed, Buffy."

With surprising strength, Dawn held her in a hug and unsure of what else to do, Buffy simply stroked her sister's hair until eventually she felt the younger girl begin to relax. How long they remained in each other's embrace she did not know, but eventually the brightness of the city lights dimmed as the car moved them toward the countryside.

Later, they sat side by side, Dawn's head on her shoulder, hands linked.

"I want you to know that I never blamed you." Dawn made noises to protest and Buffy rested her hand on her sister's cheek, gently turning her sister's face. "I made a lot of mistakes, Dawn. My biggest regret was pushing you away. After I …" she searched for the right words, "came back, all I could see was my own pain and I had no right to treat you the way I did. Being 15 is hard enough without adding in the loss of a mother, an emotionally distant sister and an apocalypse."

"But I hurt you."

Buffy was quiet. "Honestly, yes. However, I realize that I am not entirely blameless here either."

Both sisters were quiet as the limo turned into the long driveway of Kennedy's estate.

"Buffy, I know that any memories that we had that are older than three years are just fabrications but I hope…one day…that we could have the kind of closeness that could have been…if the memories were real. If you ever need to talk, or just want someone to listen, you can come to me. But if you…feel like you can't talk to me or…the others, then you can have this." There was a crinkling of plastic and a book was placed in Buffy's lap.

"It's a journal. For you."

~spuffy~

Why New York? Why the subway? Why was she seeing images of Spike? The answers escaped her.

The first time he had looked exactly as she remembered, but on the subway he looked different – harder and more like the Spike she had met when he first arrived in Sunnydale. Why two different versions of Spike? Her only tangible clue to her sanity was in her fingers as she once again opened and smoothed out the faded receipt.

_William Pratt._ The signature was written in a surprising elegant script, so at odds with the rebel image he had carefully cultivated.

Could that really be Spike? Had she really looked into a mirror in California and was somehow able to get a glimpse of the past? Was such a thing even possible? And why did she get another glimpse of Spike on a NYC Subway of all places? Was there a connection? She felt as if she was missing an important piece of the puzzle – a forgotten memory that disappeared when she closed her eyes. It was (in a word) maddening.

_William Pratt._

Casually, she had mentioned the name to Giles, asking if the name seemed familiar, but didn't mention that it was a possible alias of Spike.

"William Pratt? Hmmm….William Pratt. I don't recollect meeting anyone with that name…maybe he went by some variation? Billy perhaps? Hmmm….I'm sorry Buffy." He shook his head. "The name doesn't ring any bells."

She wanted to say more, tell him about seeing images of Spike, but some part of her held back, the same way she held back from Willow and Xander. She loved them, loved Dawn, but she just didn't _trust_…as easily as she used to. This of course was laughable; she was hardly an open book before.

Perhaps that was why she went to Andrew.

After a cursory walk through of the mansions rooms on the ground level she decided to try to his room. She tapped on the door and took a step back when a small clocked figure whipped the door open.

"Doesn't anyone read the sign?" A pale forefinger poked through the long sleeved arm of the cloak toward a note tacked on the outside of the door.

DO NOT DISTURB while game is in session.

Buffy read the sign and rose up on her tip toes to look over his shoulder.

"Oh, good. You are alone. I guess the game hasn't started yet."

"Au contraire, Slayer of the Vampyre. The game has been in progress for over five hours." Andrew pursed his lips and then stepped back as he motioned for Buffy to come into his room.

"What's with the weird-speak? I thought we settled this 'Slayer of the Vampyre' crap." She asked as he closed his door and sat down in a chair in front of the computer.

"I'm in character." He whispered. Holding up one finger, he picked up his headset.

"Werdna The Lightstriker has returned." He said in a low voice into the microphone. There was a pause, then "Oh. Okay guys, it was fun to be back! And, Wendell the Wise? You'll let me know about those quests? Thanks. Talk to you all next week."

Buffy flopped on his bed and gave it an experimental bounce before flopping backwards.  
"Comfy." She stated. Then she rolled over on her side and placed her elbow on the bed and propped her head with her hand.

"So. Werdna?" she raised an eyebrow and then grinned. "Let me guess, Andrew spelled backwards?"

He pointed at her and touched his nose. "Ah Slayer, you know me well." His eyes dimmed when her grin faded.

"I forgot…you don't like being called that, it always drove you nuts when Spike …called you–" he stopped when Buffy rolled on her back and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the sliding of the chair wheels on the hardwood floor and then felt the mattress dip when he sat on the edge of his bed. _You will not cry _she told herself.

She expected the awkward pat on her shoulder, but she was surprised at the comfort she immediately felt at the small gesture and even more shocked when she opened her eyes and saw the tears pooling in Andrew's.

"I miss him." Andrew whispered and catching Buffy's surprised look, he continued. "Don't look so shocked. Other than Dawn, he was nicer to me than the rest of you, he even let me film him once; did you know that?" Buffy shook her head. "Besides, we like totally bonded when we went on that quest."

Buffy brushed away a few tears and sniffed. "I can't talk to anyone about him. The others – they don't understand…and— I could talk to Dawn, but she was so angry with him that I just…Dawn and I are in such a good place right now _finally_ but if she said anything… bad… about him, I just – I just –" Buffy looked away, uncomfortable with anyone seeing her so vulnerable, so _raw._

Andrew must have sense how close she was to bolting. He tipped his head and looked out of the panes of the French doors that led to his balcony. "I think Spike scared them." He whispered and Buffy snorted. "It wasn't because he was one of the most dangerous vampires they had ever met…" he scrunched his nose and amended his statement "I meant it wasn't _just_ because he was one of the most dangerous vampires they had ever met. It was because he _saw_ them so clearly, saw what motivated them, and called them on their bullshit." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I am not explaining myself very well."

Buffy nodded, recalling all of the times she wanted to run from Spike because he refused to let her lie to herself. He had a knack for seeing the truth and pointing it out to others.

"I remember when we got back from our quest," he stopped and smiled slightly "our trip; and he found out that you weren't at the house. Everyone was waiting for him to give them the news on our discoveries and he just looked around the house and told them 'I'll wait for Buffy first'. I had left to go to the bathroom but when I was on my way back into the kitchen, I heard him yelling at all of them."

Andrew paused and his gaze hardened slightly and Buffy avoided his eyes, unsure why she felt self-conscious about their betrayal.

"Did you know they said that you decided to leave?"

~spuffy~

Buffy stood on the deserted platform and slowly chewed the bite of the Hershey chocolate bar she had just opened as the air around her stirred. The subway car rushed toward the platform and, with a squeal of metal on metal, slowed to a stop in front of her. Thankfully, the car in front of her was empty. It was well past her bedtime, but she found the only way to calm her restlessness was to ride the subways. Living in a constant state of choas over the past year before their battle with The First had her appreciate the moments when she was alone. Too often, she escaped from the clausterphobic atmosphere of the mansion and found herself drawn to the subways. Something about the _possibility_ that Spike had ridden these same rails comforted her.

It had been three weeks since she had "seen" him in the reflection of the window, and three weeks since she had "heard" his voice; each night after she haunted the subways hoping for another glimpse.

She couldn't decide if she had imagined it or if it was real. The only tangible proof lay in the fading yellowed paper that now was crisscrossed with creases and the feel of the thin paper between her fingers brought re-assurance that the men in white jackets didn't need to be called… yet.

Warily, she looked inside the car and then stepped confidently inside and sunk down with a relieved sigh into the first seat she saw. Just before the subway doors closed three figures dashed into her car and chuckled when the doors lid closed behind them.

Buffy shifted and looked around the car. Mistaking her cursory glance for fear, the tallest of the trio chuckled and approached Buffy.

"I love it when we just happen upon a little midnight snack!" he said as the bones on his face shifted and his fangs lengthened.

Buffy raised her eyebrows and took another bite from the candy. "Sorry, boys. I never share chocolate with guys I just met. I am just not that kind of girl."

* * *

**NYC 1977**

He sat sideways in the empty subway car, legs stretched out before him on the seat and one elbow resting on the back of the seat and cigarette dangling dangerously from his fingertips when the car jerked to a stop and the doors opened. Scents, both foul and mouthwatering, drifted in through the open doors and one side of his mouth curled up in anticipation.

She slipped through the doors moments before they closed.

For one moment, she dropped her head and her chin touched chest as her hands grasped the pole beside her. Though her weight was evenly balanced on her feet, her posture was slightly relaxed and he knew that she had not noticed him yet. Casually, he raised the cigarette that he had pinched between his thumb and forefinger and inhaled.

_Ah. She knows now._ Her spine stiffened, her head came up and her fingers flexed on the pole.

Spike drew long and deep on his cigarette until the ember at the tip was a bright glowing red. Casually, he pulled his arm back and stubbed it out on the back of the seat. He exhaled slowly and quietly, eyes on the back of the woman's head.

He was about to rise from his seat when the lights flashed and immediately, his eyes were drawn to the window. The train pulled forward and he was aware that Nikki was turning toward him, but he didn't look at the tall Slayer. His eyes were riveted to the scene playing like a movie in the reflective surface of the window.

Three vampires, all in full game face, clustered around the woman (spirit? ghost?) he had seen a week before. She had two vampires, each bracing an arm and a shoulder while the third was talking. Suddenly, her legs flew up and in a heartbeat, her legs gripped the vamps neck. The vampire struggled and his two companions watched in morbid facination.

He stopped paying attention to Nikki, only vaguely aware that she was pulling something from the deep pocket of her duster. The woman in the mirror stilled when she stared forward and once again he locked eyes with her.

"Spike." his name spoke no louder than a sigh, no more than a whisper on the wind. Then her eyes grew wide. Entranced, he didn't notice the stake that came flying toward him.

One of the vamps took avantage of her momentary pause in her stuggle and pulled a savage, serrated blade from somewhere behind.

Their words spilled from their lips at the same time.

"On your left!" he shouted.

"Stake!" she cried in alarm.

~spuffy~

Stay Tuned...

* * *

A/N: I really really hoped y'all liked this chapter. Also, I know I left a few things hanging at the end, but I promise there will be more of Buffy/Andrew's conversation, more Buffy growing closer with Dawn and a gradual strain between Buffy and the Scoobies. There will also be more Spike.

FYI - This will be something of an Epic fic. Not too sure of the length, but there will be three parts to this story. And, yes, time will be a-travelin'!


	4. Echo

**Dedicated** **to**: Sensored, Afterthesilence,Cole22, S1r3h, MaireAilbhe, Seapea and Cavemenftw who reviewed on fanfiction and to Pfeifferpack, ShyLyn, Erkika, Shirtygirl, Lambean, Amasirol, Magnus374, no_promises, ginar369, Lou (to the third power!) and Abstracted who reviewed on EF. Thank you for your lovely reviews.*bites tongue to keep for begging for more*

**Disclaimer**: Joss is Boss and I am not Joss. These characters are not mine.

**A/N**: Not the same fight from the series, but I hope I did it justice Also any references to series episodes will not be true to canon…so forgive me if quotes aren't spot on.

**Warning**: this is un-beta'd so bear with me.

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Echo**

**New York City (Buffy, Present Day/Spike, 1977)**

Their words spilled from their lips at the same time.

"On your left!" he shouted.

"Stake!" she cried in alarm.

In the reflective window, Spike ducked in his seat and disappeared from her line of sight as she flexed backwards and her motion unbalanced the two vampires that restrained her. Her feet kicked upward, caught the third vampire under the jaw and thrust him backwards into the closed door of the subway car before she swung her legs up and backwards. One of the vamps that restrained her lessened his grip and she pulled her arm free as she continued on her backward flip.

Before either vampire could regain their balance, she landed in a half-crouch behind the first vamp with her feet planted on the bench seat that she had sat upon just earlier, his wrist pulled behind his back in her tight grasp. She pulled her stake and threw her arm forward around his shoulder and stabbed his chest.

She held her breath through the burst of dust; jumped when vampire number two used his right hand to swing the serrated blade toward her midsection, brought her left leg up when she cartwheeled off of the seat and side-kicked his temple. From the impact-

* * *

- Nikki careened sideways and slid down the middle of the subway car. Once stopped, she raised her ass off of the floor and bucked, the leverage enabled her feet to land on the ground and she used her stomach muscles to pull the rest of her body up as well. Her show of athletics was all for naught; Spike's attention was once again focused on the window, at the blonde who was now one on one with the tallest of the three vampires that had her restrained only moments before.

He realized his focus should be on Nikki, but for the moment she had no weapon; her stake had bounced off the chair, clattered to the floor and slid under the bench seat when he had rolled away from the attack earlier. Spike had no such worries- vampires were never without their weapon, a useful advantage over Slayers.

In the window, the tall vampire jabbed Goldilocks twice, which she smoothly evaded when she merely dropped her head before she shifted her weight from the right and then quickly to the left with a grace that would put Sugar Ray Robinson to shame. Two more jabs and one powerful uppercut propelled the vamp toward the window.

The blonde –

* * *

-looked into the reflective surface of the window and grinned at Spike. For a split second, it felt as if he was really here with her. Even as she had fought the vamps she felt a prickle of awareness that told her he watched her. She couldn't stop the rush of exhilaration, the same feeling that she used to ignore whenever he had been close. Too many years she had spent afraid her desires and ignored that primal part of her that would tell her "_Want. Take. __Have__."_

Stake in hand, she knelt and thrust the stake into the chest of the prone vampire. She stood, all too aware of the breath rushing in and out of her lungs, not from the exertions from her fight, but from something altogether different.

The tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end, telling her that the remaining vampire was creeping closer.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the window and faced her foe, and, from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement from Spike as he faced his opponent. Once again, they seemed to mirror each other as did their opponents.

The vampire leaned forward, brought his left hand up toward his right shoulder before he extended his arm toward her face in a forceful backhand. Again, from the corner of her eye, Spike's attacker mimicked the movement.

Buffy dodged-

* * *

-the hit by turning away. Without hesitation, Nikki pivoted and snapped a side kick that connected to his pelvis. Spike grunted from the impact and he heard a slightly muffled and distorted echo as the blonde in the mirror grunted. He swiveled his head and caught her eye in the window. Once again she flashed a cheeky grin and he felt the beginnings of laughter rumble in his chest.

"Enjoying yourself, Pet?" He said the words before he thought them and Nikki faltered when she thought his words were directed toward her.

An eerie feeling - both familiar and foreign – threatened to overwhelm him and he frowned at the contradiction. Goldilocks turned away with a light and graceful pivot and he did the same, until they had both faced away from each other and stood back to back. _Familiar. _Nikki stood toward the one end of the subway car, eyed him with consternation and he chuckled unexpectedly. _Foreign._

"So, are you going to just stand there all day catching flies in your mouth or are you actually planning to put up _some _kind of fight? To be honest, I –

* * *

-admit that I really need a good fight right now. I'm feeling nostalgic."

_God, this felt good!_ She laughed at the dumbfounded look on the vamp's face. The low rumble of Spike's voice echoed her and she let the muffled sound wrap around her like a favorite song. Without warning, the vamp attacked and the fight was on. She ducked, spun, jabbed and kicked and although she could not see Spike the muffled sounds of the fight echoed and she pictured him mirroring her moves. It was almost like they were both partners in-

* * *

_- a dance. _ He thought. The rhythm might be unfamiliar (_foreign)_, but his feet and body remembered the steps well enough. Funny, how earlier, he had been so ready to kill Nikki the Slayer and now all he wanted to do was drag the fight out, continue the duet with the girl in the window. Nikki jabbed and he dodged; she kicked and he…well, it might make him a ponce, but…he _danced_ his way backwards. Laughter and chuckles escaped him and he smirked at the fury that sparked in the woman's chocolate brown eyes.

"What's the matter? Are you –

* * *

-not having fun? Awww… is this not fun for you? 'Cause, I have to say, this is the _most_ fun I have had in quite a while." Buffy smirked when the vampire's eyebrows pulled together to make one long Unibrow that reminded her of Noel Gallagher but more "eew" than "sexy". His arm flew toward her and she ducked; his leg snapped sideways and she jumped, pulled her legs up as his leg swung underneath.

"You think this is funny, Slayer?" Unibrow growled and Buffy heard a muffled feminine echo.

"_You think this is funny, Vampire?"_

"No, I think –

* * *

-a dozen clowns climbing out of one of those tiny yellow cars is funny. You? I don't think you are funny at all." The chuckle that followed his words belied their sentiment and Nikki narrowed her eyes in grim determination.

"Oh, getting serious now, are we?" he continued, his grin widened when he hear an echo of his words from…elsewhere. Nikki advanced and he curled his tongue behind his teeth.

"Say your goodbyes, Vampire. It is time to die."

"You are a little late to the party, Slayer, I have already died-

* * *

-twice. But don't let that stop you." She quipped, but it was half-hearted at best. _Slayer._ The familiar moniker spoken in Spike's low tones caused her stomach to twist and the corners of her mouth to turn down. Funny how she had hated the way he would utter her title and now she hated that it wasn't being directed toward her.

The vamp snapped a kick toward her midsection and the air huffed out, she stumbled backwards a few steps as she tried to pull oxygen into her lungs and he followed up with a brutal hit to her solar plexus. The hits continued…jab to her cheek, another kick to the side of her ribs, uppercut to the jaw. Her vision blurred…

"…_and we just keep coming. Like a wave of roaches, and here you are doing a minute waltz, trying to stomp us all. But you can kill a hundred. A thousand. A thousand thousand and the armies of Hell besides. But all we need... ...Is for one of us, just one, sooner or later, to have the thing we all are hoping for…"_

"_And that would be what?" _

"_One. Good. Day."_

The vamp reached for her head and thrust it-

* * *

-backwards; he spun and she pushed his head face-first through the window. He would have yelled with the exhilaration except he only felt shock when he noticed that the parallel fight that had been going on disappeared when she pushed his head through the window. Sheer stupidity, but he realized that he had _wanted _to believe that it wasn't some trick, that the blonde in the window was real.

His head hadn't been pushed into an alternate dimension when it had broken the glass. His head was in the subway tunnel, air rushed past his face and he looked at the-

* * *

-bricked walls of the subway tunnel. Just a fucking tunnel, no alternate mirror-world, no Spike…

Frustrated, the rage bubbled up from inside spewing from her lungs like lava erupting from a volcano in one primal scream. _Why is this happening? _A hand tugged on the back of her collar and she was yanked backwards and shoved to side, the impact of her body on the floor absorbed on her hands and knees.

Unibrow chuckled behind her, the sound low and ominous. Each hair on her body seemed to stand up. He kicked her backside and she sprawled on the ground, his booted foot on her neck, face turned sideways. Under the seat beside her, she had an up close view of dust bunnies, discarded trash and a trio of spiders delicately picking their way over abandoned bubble gum wrappers and (oh!) her forgotten chocolate bar.

Once more, she remembered Spike's words and wondered, was the vamp above her about to have himself a real good day?

_Not this day._

The pressure eased from her back and she rolled. Her hands gripped his foot and with a vicious twist he was unbalanced. She raised her feet to gain momentum-

* * *

-but was pinned by the unexpected weight of Nikki. She seized his head, one hand on either temple and thumped his head on the floor. _Once. Twice._

The lights in the subway car flickered and flashed then went dark. He was quick to take advantage of Nikki's momentary disorientation and reversed their positions. His hands went to her throat and slowly he squeezed. Her eyes bulged, her hands swatted ineffectually.

There was no joy here, no thrill in her death when he broke her neck. Blood trickled from her nose and he had a quick memory of the night he and Dru danced in the pool of the other Slayer's blood. It seemed anticlimactic when he stood and walked to the back of the car and pulled the emergency brake. As the car screeched and screamed to a stop, he maintained his balance.

He remembered the bet though. He knelt and began to pull the long leather jacket from her body. When he finished he stood. Unwillingly, his eyes went to the cracked window. All he saw was the distorted view of the subway car where he stood.

The blonde-

* * *

-was gone. It had seemed so real, so vivid to her. _I can't be halucinating. _There had to be something else at work. There just had to be...

~spuffy~

"Unfair!" The voice startled Buffy as she quietly crept through the kitchen doors. Immediately, her head turned toward the voice and green eyes met brown.

"Good morning to you too, Faith." Her voice was dry.

"Morning-schmorning, B." The dark-haired Slayer stalked toward her and Buffy gave up all thoughts of finding her bed anytime soon. Faith drew closer, leaning forward to sniff suspiciously, whisky hued eyes raking Buffy from head to toe.

"You have been fighting; I can smell it on you!" Faith accused.

"Gee…you mean it wasn't the bruises or the cuts and scrapes that gave it away? I must feel worse than I look." Ruefully she looked at the brunette and tried to brush by her. Faith refused to budge.

"Cut the crap, B-"

"I- I'm kind of tired Faith, can we talk about this later?" Buffy interjected.

"Don't you go getting all avoid-y on me, B! Tell me what's going on. Why were you out so late, what were you fighting with and…why didn't you bring m...back-up?" The last part was said quietly as Faith hugged herself with her arms and looked away from Buffy, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"I found a nest…or I think I found a nest. Got jumped by three vamps tonight and I-"

"Got jumped? Got Jumped?" Faith ran a hand through her chestnut hair. "Where did you go, B, that you got _jumped_ by three vamps?"

"Nowhere!" Faith's eyes narrowed and Buffy swallowed. _ Hello, my name is Buffy and I ride the NYC subways every night in hopes of seeing visions of my dead…ex-vampire-lover…but I am beginning to think…_but she couldn't say any of that, no matter how much she wanted to. She closed her eyes and decided to go with a slightly altered version of the truth.

"I can't sleep, not at night anyways and when I do sleep, it is never for long periods. So, I go out at night and…patrol. Kind of, except, there wasn't really anything to patrol, until tonight that was."

"Patrol?" Skeptical, Faith grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter and bit into. Thoughtfully, she chewed for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, B. I can understand that. But, no more solo patrols. You hear me?"

Buffy nodded. Faith pointed a finger at Buffy, apple still in hand.

"Next time you feel sleepless and want to go for another patrol, you come get me."

Buffy nodded, eyes not quite meeting Faith's. "Sure thing, Faith."

Faith grabbed another apple and tossed it toward her sister Slayer. "Eat something, B. God, I swear, you barely enough these days to keep an anorexic full, let alone feed a Slayer metabolism."

Buffy caught the apple and bit into it, surprised when she realized she _was_ hungry. The apple was cool, crisp and juicy. She looked up to catch the brunette eyeing her critically.

"You need to get out during the daylight too B. I've seen vamps with better tans then you."

Buffy extended her hand for inspection and frowned when she realized Faith was correct. Her once golden tan had faded.

She looked at Faith, horror etched on her face.

"Do I look-" her lip curled at the idea, "_pasty_ to you?"

Faith threw her arm sympathetically over Buffy's shoulders. "The good news, B? The condition is only temporary. Meet me later after you have a nap and we can do some training over in the south gardens, near that hedge-maze thingy. We will get some good sun today – have ourselves a workout and catch some rays at the same time. What do you think?"

Buffy slanted her eyes towards Faith and felt a spark of life awaken inside for the first time since…in a while.

"I think it sounds like fun."

Faith returned her smile with a friendly shoulder squeeze before she pulled away. "See you after lunch then."

~spuffy~

After a quick shower, Buffy threw on some sleepwear and crawled into her bed. Her hand dangled down, fingers brushing the fabric of her dust ruffle as she felt between the mattresses for her journal. Once she found the object of her search, she sat up and propped a few pillows behind her back.

Buffy tapped her bottom lip with the fuzzy top of her pen and tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts. She had already filled in a few of the journal's pages and she took some time to flip through the words she had written.

_From the Journal of Buffy Summer's_

_**New York June 10, 2003**_

_I, Buffy Ann Summers, swear upon Mr. Pointy, that I am not crazy. I am, however, seriously wigged. I know one thing for certain though. Anytime I see any kind of reflective surface, I feel this incredible surge of adrenaline and hope. Most times, I am disappointed, but everyone once in a while, I see him. _

_I see Spike._

_A Spike who is not dead…well he __is__ dead, but not __dead__ dead (and yes, I am aware this makes no sense __at all__, so once again I will swear upon Mister Pointy __I am not crazy or at least I hope I am not crazy__)._

_I see him in the unlikeliest of places; a motel bathroom, an office, and the subway in New York City. _

_I am not crazy, but I don't think I can tell anyone. Who would believe me anyways? _

_Frankly, I just-_

Buffy skipped over the rest of the entry and turned the page. Quickly, she skimmed over the rest of the entries.

_**June 12, 2003**_

_I am officially obsessed with mirrors. I can't pass by a single mirror now without taking time to stare into it and each time I do I can't help but to consider the implications. Deluded? Am I deluded? Or is it really possible-_

_**June 14, 2003**_

_I went back to the subways. Joe drove me. At first I felt as if I should explain my weird compulsion to ride the subway at one o'clock in the morning, but when I tried, Joe simply held up his hand. _

"_No need to explain ma'am," he had said (and might I say, being called Ma'am made me check to see if I had "Mom Hair" again), "Wherever you want to go, it is my job to get you there –no questions asked."_

_No questions asked? No "Why Buffy?" or "Do you really think that is wise, Buffy?" _

_And that was that._

_I got into the Limo –_

_**June 21, 2003**_

…_nothing! Logically, I can say without a doubt that I am wasting my time. A few times, I even tried to stay in. I would say goodnight to Dawn, get into my pj's and brush my teeth. However, after an hour of tossing and turning and thoughts of "What if tonight was the night I would see him again?" would motivate me to get dressed –_

She thought about her latest (vision/mirage/figment) interaction with Spike and began to write.

_**June 22, 2003**_

_I saw him again._

Pen gripped in her fingers, she stared at the brief entry. Tried as she might, she couldn't think of anything to write next. Slowly, she slid downward until she was lying flat on the bed. Within seconds she was asleep.

Sometime later, she was awaked by a fist banging repeatedly on her bedroom door.

"Enough z's for now, Sleeping Beauty. Up and at'em." Buffy groaned when Faith's head popped into her room. Before Buffy could respond she was hit in the face by a bundle of black and purple Lycra.

Grumbling under her breath, Buffy changed, made a few pointed comments about the outfit (or lack thereof) and Faith had smirked.

"Shut up, B. You know you ain't got anything to be worried about. Granted your bod isn't the smoking hot brick-house I have going on" Faith paused and ran her hands down her frame and winked at Buffy, "but you do all right."

After changing, Buffy raised an eyebrow when she looked in the mirror. "Matching outfits, Faith? Awww…that's so sweet. We could be twins."

Faith wiggled her eyebrows, "Like some teen's wet dream...haha. C'mon, the sky is blue and the sun is high. Let's go have some fun!"

~spuffy~

_Later that afternoon…_

The room was quiet; the quiet sound of pencil on paper would have been unnoticeable to the average person. To a Slayer, however, not only did Buffy hear the scratch of the pencil upon the paper, but she could also clearly hear the tinny voice the emanated from the headset Andrew wore. Andrew made no comment as he transcribed the detailed list of instructions dictated by the disembodied voice.

Some of the requests seemed ridiculous to Buffy, but the serious expression on her friend's face helped her to hold her tongue. Bored, she pulled out the new journal Dawn had given her a few weeks before along with a pink pen topped with a fuzzy purple…whatever you call the fuzzy purple things that sometimes topped pens.

Andrew, engrossed in his notation, barely looked her way. Buffy was not offended; she had spent enough time hanging out in Andrew's room that his behavior was common place. In the beginning she teased him about how seriously he took his game, but his wounded stare and an elegiac "Not you too?" had stopped her.

Lower lip caught between her teeth, she looked down at the four words she had penned earlier. Unable to find other words, she had fallen asleep only to be awakened a few moments (okay…not moments…_hours_ but it felt like moments) by Faith's fist bumping on her bedroom door.

Buffy rolled over to her front, legs hinged at the knee with her ankles crossed and placed the journal in front of her on the bed.

Faith had been right, it had been fun. Sparring with Faith hadn't given her the thrill that that she had felt earlier when she fought the vamp with mirror-Spike at her back but, trading insults, kicks and blows with her former Slayer rival had been _fun_. Soon enough, they had drawn a crowd and it wasn't long before they had a group of Slayers sparring around them, laughter mixed in with the sounds of punches, kicks, grunts and groans…a definite change from the deadly focus they had all maintained when they had battled the First and the somber mood in the weeks that followed.

The members of the household not fighting were scattered around the grassy area; Willow and Xander had sat on a blanket as they nibbled from a cluster of grapes, Dawn lay on another blanket with her chin propped a fist and a contented smile on her face, even Andrew had shown up, a small plastic tube clutched in his hand as he reprimanded them all for not wearing sunscreen.

Buffy grinned as she stretched her pleasantly achy muscles. It had been a good day so far.

Pen in hand, she wrote the next few lines.

_I saw him again._

_And I found out that life goes on. I can laugh and I can play, but underneath it all… I miss him and I need to find out why this is happening to me. Am I really seeing Spike? Or is something playing around with me? I know one thing for sure, if this is one demon's idea of a joke, then I will show them one hell of a punch line. _

She closed her journal, rolled onto her back and loosely clasped the book to her chest. Idly, she watched a spider crawl across the ceiling and tuned out Andrew's voice as he began a series of questions directed toward the person on the other side of the headset.

~spuffy~

Eyes closed, Willow sat on the ground in the middle of the atrium, legs loosely crossed, with each hand resting on a knee, palm up with thumb and forefinger touching in a classic meditative pose. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled in one long, slow and soft breath.

She tried to find time each day to center herself in this way, still shied away from magic as much as possible and rarely allowed herself to perform spells, too worried that those oh-so-familiar magical cravings (that delicious _need_) would once again take over her thoughts and desires.

Performing the spell to activate the Slayers had made her nervous and afterward, her fear did not go away. Instead, she spent the following days worried her addition to magic would be returned three-fold, anxiously awaited the seductive rush of adrenaline and _need_ that had followed her the last time she had gone too deep. Even the small spell she had used to unlock the connecting doors at the motel they had used after the collapse of Sunnydale had made her apprehensive.

Luckily, no such feelings had overtaken her but it didn't quell her fears and agitation, caused in part by nightmares – terrifying dreams where she was once again dark haired, ebony-eyed and veiny. Each night, she awoke covered in sweat, heart thundering and clutching to Kennedy like she was a life preserver and Willow had just jumped from the Titanic into the icy Atlantic water. Immediately, she was aware of her lover's hands, at once strong and gentle, smoothing her hair and hugging her close until Willow's breathing evened out and her trembling stopped.

In those moments, Willow could almost believe that Kennedy and Tara shared the same soul and she thanked all the deities in her pantheon that she had Kennedy. In the past, she would have turned to Buffy but for a reason that she could not put her finger on something in their relationship had shifted.

Admittedly, she was partly to blame, the mistakes she had made with her magic had created a distance between them but she also felt that Buffy had contributed as well. After they had resurrected her, Buffy had pulled so far away; it had confused Willow with both its abruptness and calculation. Once Buffy had revealed that they had pulled her from Heaven with her spell, Willow felt they had reached a turning point and, while a gap remained at the very least a bridge was built between them. Until Willow's addictions had reached unmanageable proportions and Buffy became increasingly absent.

Now, she had never felt further away from her friend.

_Inhale. Exhale._ Her meditation continued and she decided she would talk to Xander.

~spuffy~

"I don't unde-"

"Shhh."

"But couldn't you just go in the-"

"No, I can't." the reply was an agitated whisper.

"But couldn't they just-"

"It doesn't work that way, now please…shhh."

Buffy stepped back from Andrew's shoulder and he adjusted his headset, while he tapped a few keys on his keyboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught site of Buffy as she mimed closing a zipper over her lips. His lips twitched and Buffy grinned cheekily. From her position behind him as he sat at his computer terminal, she launched herself backwards and giggled when she bounced on the mattress.

A 20-sided die clattered across his desktop and he sighed. He adjusted the mic attached to his headset.

"A three." His tone was dejected and Buffy frowned in sympathy; while she didn't understand the rules of Dungeons and Dragons, she could tell from the tone of his voice that it wasn't the number he had hoped for.

Buffy tuned out the tinny voices that came through over Andrew's headset and closed her eyes. If Andrew stayed true to form, he would be occupied with his fellow gamers for at least another hour. Like a fish out of water she wriggled around on his bed and sighed with contentment (how had he managed to score _the_ most comfortable mattress in the mansion, she could only guess) when she found the comfiest spot.

It would be nice to get in a short nap before dinner, she was going out again later on in the evening…

~spuffy~

That evening, her outfit was a pair of black cotton Capri leggings, a grey tank top and a black hooded vest. She had pulled her hair back into a pony tail and wore a pair of black running shoes. Tonight wasn't about fashion; she was more concerned with comfort and being able to move. Earlier, she had given Joe the nod and she knew that the tall chauffeur would be waiting for her in the garage.

Her gut told her that the three vamps she had tangled with the evening before belonged to a bigger nest and she was determined to exterminate them. Quietly, she crept down the back stair case toward the kitchen. From the floor above, she heard a muffled thump and she tilted her head for a moment as she listened.

Satisfied that it was nothing, she continued downward until she reached a short hallway, took a left turn and paused at the doorway. Two voices carried through the door in front of her.

"…know Xan, she just doesn't seem the same and I can't put my finger on it. What do you think?" Willow's voice was tinged with concern.

"She's quieter, if that's what you mean. More…umm…contemplative?" Buffy heard heavy footsteps and she took an involuntary step backwards, ready to sprint up the stairs if needed. She held her breath until she heard the quiet squeak of the pantry door followed by a rustling sound. The door closed and footsteps walked away.

"You don't think she is avoiding us, do you?" her friend's voice sounded small and uncertain.

"Why do you think that?" his voice was distorted, like he had something in his mouth. Another sound followed and Buffy smiled when she remembered Dawn announcing that they got more of Xander's favorite flavor of potato chips. She heard another sound, followed by loud crunching and smiled when she pictured him with a handful of Sour Cream and Onion chips.

"Well, I didn't at first. I mean she been shopping with us a few times since...we left California and hasn't walked away whenever I approached her…but then I realized that she never comes to seek me out or just hang…you know like we used to. And, did you notice, that she was sparring with Faith this afternoon and they were laughing and smiling? And we sat on the ground to watch? Buffy said she was done and Faith said 'Yeah, me too. I guess we have been out here for hours haven't we, B?' _Hours_, Xander! That's when I started thinking…when have we hung out with Buffy for hours lately?"

More crunching as Xander chewed. When he spoke his words were muffled.

"Will, don't take it personally, okay? I think she…I think _everyone _just needed some downtime. That…battle…with the first, hell the whole year leading up to the battle with the First…we all just need to recover. Everyone withdrew a little. We all lost…some important people," he stopped, his voice pained. She heard some rustling and then light footsteps.

"Xander." Willow's voice was soft, compassionate.

_Anya._ Buffy knew that Xander was grieving for the blonde ex-demon.

She heard the quiet murmurs of Willow as she comforted their friend. Her throat closed up and she put her hand on the door knob, but something stopped her from turning it and entering the kitchen. Why couldn't she just go in there and find a way to bridge the ever widening gap between her and her friends?

Like photos in an album a hundred different memories she shared with her two friends flipped in her mind. They weathered break-ups, disagreements and apocalypses; surely they could weather this estrangement? Perhaps, in their grief over losing a loved one, she, Xander and Willow could grow close again.

The last photo was the image she carried of the night they had all asked her to leave (the looks on their faces when they told her to leave) and, like a voice over, she remembered her conversation with Andrew.

_"Did you know they said that you decided to leave?"_

_Buffy stared at Andrew, certain she had misheard._

"_I decided to leave? They said…I…no, you must have misunderstood; Giles, Dawn, Xander and Willow would never…"her voice trailed off uncertainly when Andrew shook his head. _

"_Willow said," he squinted his eyes and looked up at the ceiling as he focused his thoughts; "she said 'Buffy decided that it would be best if she left.' Spike, of course, didn't believe it for a second and he kept pushing for the truth. Willow kept trying to explain but still she kept the focus on it being your decision to go."_

_Buffy tried but she failed to wrap her mind around this. "But…Dawn and Xander…they would have…Giles would have…"_

_Andrew looked down at his hands and fidgeted briefly, he took a deep breath and looked at Buffy._

"_No one contradicted her, Buffy, but Spike was able to piece it all together. Oh God! I wish you could have heard him. By the time he had finished his rant, Willow and Dawn were in tears, Giles couldn't get his glasses any cleaner…I mean I have heard some rants in my time, but he was…I have never had anyone stand up for me the way he stood up for you. I wish I had been so lucky!_

_Andrew recounted the events that followed…Spike's increasing ire, the scuffle between Faith and Spike and then his departure._

_Then, she remembered, on one of the darkest night her of her life it had been the man who had been her enemy, not one of the Scoobies (her family), who had lifted her up and gave her the strength to get up the next morning…the strength to defeat The First._

Her hand dropped off the doorknob and she took a quiet step backwards, and another, until the backs of her heels hit the bottom step of the narrow staircase behind her, then she slowly sank down until she was sitting. Willow and Xander continued to speak quietly, Xander's tone filled with grief and Willow's tone reassuring.

The chasm between her and her friends had never seemed wider and Buffy wondered if would ever get so wide that it could not be bridged.

Eventually, their voices faded as the left the kitchen. Buffy waited a few minutes then quietly crept away from the stairs. Carefully, she opened the door to the kitchen then quickly tiptoed across the room to the door that led toward the side of the mansion toward the garage.

As she had predicted, Joe was waiting. He nodded to Buffy as he held the door (Buffy had tried to break him of this habit but to no avail) and she climbed inside. He had shut her door and had just settled into the driver seat when the door across from Buffy opened and a grinning Faith slid in beside her.

"You didn't think I was going to let you have all of the fun again, now did you, B?"

~ spuffy~

The door opened soundlessly and Andrew peeked cautiously around the side then slipped into the room.

"Buffy?" he whispered.

Silence greeted him. He scanned her room and frowned when he saw the empty but neatly made bed, then sighed. Buffy's nocturnal doings had become something of a mystery to him, but until she volunteered the details of her nightly wanderings, he was determined to respect her privacy.

Perhaps, it was better that she was out. His eyes sparkled at the idea that his little surprise might give his friend a little pick-me-up.

He stepped into the room, a mid-sized messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and crossed to her bed. From his bag, he pulled a device and placed it onto her bed, along with a long black cord. Casually, he glanced around the walls near her bed until he settled on the lamp on the end table. Lightly, he ran his fingers along the lamps cord, until the cord trailed off toward the wall near the corner of her bed.

"Success!" he grinned and settled on his hands and knees.

He flipped the comforter and dust ruffle then peered at the outlet. With one hand he braced himself on the floor and with the other he pulled down the electrical cord he had put on the bed and plugged it into the wall. He sat back and was about to pull down her dust ruffle when he noticed the corner of her journal poking out from between the mattress and box spring. Gently, he pulled the smoothed the ruffle and comforter, curious why she felt like it was something she needed to hide. He had seen her journal plenty of times over the last few weeks.

_It must be a girl thing _he decided.

Once he slung his messenger back over his shoulder, he pulled a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly, he scribbled a few words, folded the paper in half and placed it on top of his "gift". He chewed his lip and stared at the bed, suddenly filled with self-doubt.

_Was this a good idea or a disaster waiting to happen?_

God, he hoped it was the former and not the later.

~ spuffy~

The gush of heated water stopped when she leaned down to turn the spigot. Buffy sighed and inhaled the steam deeply through her nose while she rolled her head from side to side. The shower had helped to relax her after the long evening she and Faith had spent patrolling the tunnels near the subway. It had taken more than a few hours, but they had finally found the nest of vampires and between the two of them, they had quickly taken care of the residents.

She heard muffled sounds that sounded from Faith's room as she also prepared for sleep. Buffy pulled aside the shower curtain and reached over the heated rack on the wall until her fingers grasped the closest towel… large, fluffy and, quite possibly, the most luxurious item she had ever touched. _When we leave, this towel is definitely going in my suitcase!_ She wrapped the towel around her body and another towel turban style around her head.

The bathroom was large, the floor tiled in stone swirled with hues of grey, smoky blue and black. Buffy crossed over to the sink and looked at the cloudy mirror. Hand raised, she paused when she felt a sense of _deja-vu_.

Could it be possible?

Her hand trembled and she felt the cool, smooth surface of the mirror under her palm. Stomach in knots, she cleared the steam from the mirror.

Long, wavy wet hair and green eyes stared back.

Disappointed, she let her breath out slowly and steadily.

She was beginning to hate the sight of her own reflection. She closed her eyes and wished desperately that Spike could hear her words.

"I miss you." She whispered. She was answered with silence.

It took tremendous effort to shake off the melancholy that threatened to consume her. Discarded clothes in hand, she left the en suite bathroom, dumped her clothes into the hamper and pulled out some sleep shorts and cami set. The room was dark, only a faint light coming from her bathroom. After dressing for sleep, she walked to her bed and flipped on a Tiffany lamp on the bedside table.

That is when she saw it, laying in the middle of her bedspread covered by a piece of paper.

She titled her head and blinked, then picked up the folded paper.

_Buffy,_

_I thought these had been destroyed, but then I remember that I had uploaded these onto an old server back in Sunnydale. Luckily, the server was not located in Sunnydale; it was in LA but could be accessed from anywhere. Without going into too much detail let me just say that Warren was paranoid and had more than a few back up plans. Forgive me for reminding you of my nefarious past, but I hope this makes up for it a little. It is part of my "12 Step' program…but I am making it up as I go along, because there is no anonymous support group for a reformed member of the infamous Evil Trio. _

_~Andrew_

She opened the laptop and inserted the disk. The computer whirred as the disk spun inside and on the keyboard she hit play.

At first the image was blurry and unsteady, but something was adjusted and then she gasped.

* * *

He was leaning against the wall in her basement with a cigarette between his lips, one foot braced on the floor and the foot on the wall with his bent knee visible between the flaps of his long leather coat. Off camera, Andrew's voice spoke softly in what they had all come to refer as his "Story-Teller" voice – filled with suppressed excitement and dramatic whispers.

"_He walks the night, shunned by his kind and by the very humans he tries to protect. It is a solitary existence, but he does not fear the solitude." Andrew's hushed voice continued as the camera panned over Spike while the subject smoked his cigarette, seemingly unaware of the attention. "Some, demons and others like him, call him a traitor and place bounties on his head. Other's refuse to call him hero…"_

_The camera zoomed closer and Spike's eyes moved. As if caught and mesmerized by the vampire's stare, the camera stopped. Irritated, Spike furrowed his brows._

"_Oh for the love of…will you get that bloody thing out of my face!" With his thumb and forefinger, Spike flicked his cigarette to the ground, annoyance plain on his face._

_His next words were cut off by an apologetic sounding Andrew._

"_Spike? Can we do this again, the light was behind you and …" Immediately, Spike's demeanor went from menacing to attentive._

"_Oh? Well, I could move over here?" he pointed to the left and the camera jiggled up and down as Andrew nodded. _

"_That's good! Um…a little more to the…perfect." _

_There was movement as Andrew walked backwards, the image tilted a little then once more focused on Spike. Slowly, the image zoomed out to include a wider shot of the basement. Once more, Spike was in profile. He leaned back until the wall was behind him, stretched out one leg in front and braced the other foot on the wall behind him._

_He pulled another cigarette and lit it._

_All along, Andrew chattered away, making suggestions and asking the occasional question. Spike nodded, but said little._

"_Okay…give me just a second…annnnd...Action!"_

_Then, Andrew spoke again, tone hushed and reverent._

"_He walks the night, shunned by his kind and by the very humans he tries to protect…" he began._

* * *

A giggle escaped her mouth and then another until her giggles turned to laughter and the laughter turned to tears. She replayed the disk four times until she fell asleep, a smile on her lips and tears on her cheek.

~ spuffy~

Lately the biggest topic of discussion concerning the collection of Sunnydale survivors had been about the future. Most people present had felt that they had enough time in New York to rest and recuperate after the battle with The First and were ready to move on to Europe, while others, Buffy amongst them, were reluctant to leave. Vi had family in Ohio and was ardent in her support for establishing some type of base in Cleveland.

Last night, following dinner, a heated debate had arisen and tempers flared.

Now the next morning, the usual group of early risers had gathered for breakfast and seated in the formal dining room. Conversation was muted, no one wanted to be the first to break the uneasy truce that had been declared, so discussion was limited to "safe" topics such as the weather ("_I think it might rain, don't you?"_ and "_Anyone hear about that tornado in Oklahoma last night?")._

All talking stopped when Buffy walked into the room. Dressed in her "workout' outfit of a grey Capri yoga pants and grey tank top, hair pulled back into a pony tail, her attire was not out of the ordinary. The smile on her face and the humming sound however were. Her eyes sparkled when she spied Andrew. She bounced over to the blonde male, placed both of her hand on his cheeks and kissed him full on the lips.

"Thank you for last night. You are….incredible! It was exactly what I needed."

Andrew grinned back. "I was worried that it would be too much."

"Well, I can't deny that there were tears, but…" she took a deep breath, "what you did….I can't thank you enough.. Again...it was _incredible._"

Various faces watched the pair in disbelief. Xander stared, mouth open, fork poised in midair unaware of the small bits of scrambled egg falling onto the table. Giles kept blinking as if he was seeing things. Other faces were a mixture of shock and confusion.

Buffy picked up an orange and leaned closer. "I was wondering…well, hoping really…is there _really _more?"

Andrew smiled mysteriously. "Oh, I don't think you will be disappointed."

Her carefree laughter trailed behind her as she left the room and Andrew nodded satisfied. He drained his glass of water and looked around the table.

"Vi? Can you pass me the water?" He speared a fried potato on his fork and munched. Aware of the silence at the table, he chewed slower and slower as he noticed all eyes were on him – some shocked, some curious and more than a few glances of feminine appraisal.

"What?" he asked innocently.

~ spuffy~

Stay Tuned...

* * *

**Acknowledgements**: RDM, SevenSidedDie and Tynum from "Stack Exchange" and Blade Red Wind for their valuable DnD knowledge and patience with my complete and utter ignorance! I do have plans to expand on Andrew and his D & D quest for redemption. My apologies for the length of time in between postings, but I hope you will be happy to learn that I have started writing Part Two - (I am excited about the content and I really, really want to spill the beans – but I won't!) – Which will mean some faster postings (I hope) when we reach that section of the story.


	5. Chapter 5 Fracture

**A/N**: Wasn't chapter 4 fabulous? *toots own horn* Sorry for the delay with the posting. TOTALLY got side tracked by the muse (can anyone say Spuffy fic with Grease overtones? I can! Hehe.) Sorry for the wait for this update, I have no excuse other than I wanted it to be perfect

**Dedication**: To all of the reviewers at –Mad Vampire Poet, Marguerida, RasalineC, Beige Flicka, Ero-Neko-Hime, Afterthesilence, Seapea, ShyL, MistressInk, Cavemanftw, Sensored and Erin (you were not logged into ff, so I could not send a reply to thank you) -And to those at Elysian Fields: No Promises, Victoria2, Erkika, Lou, ginar369, All4Spike, dmf109, magnus374, Amasirol, hiker96 and Cathainesheart. …Thank you for your lovely reviews. A shout out to every person who has this on alert (my story alerts almost doubled on the last chapter alone!) or has favorite'd, I am thrilled by the response!

**Disclaimer:** Joss is Boss and I am not Joss…but if you really think I am, I will check again. *peeks* nope, still not Joss.

**Warning:** I like to think of Canon as my own little on-line shopping site and pull only the items I want If this bothers anyone, I won't apologize, but I hope you will overlook my blatant manipulation of the Whedonverse and it's timelines and continue to read.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Fracture**

The enormous room was unfamiliar, but reminded Buffy of the Museum in Sunnydale that her mother used to manage, only on a much grander scale. The walls were long, painted a stark white and matched by the polished white marble floor. Other than the artwork that decorated the walls and the occasional open doorway that led to annexed rooms, the most notable feature was the intricate detail on its domed stained glass ceiling, a few stories over their head.

Buffy followed the long line of onlookers as they ambled around, her pace unhurried and although she was unsure of her destination she was confident she would arrive eventually. As she scanned the area around her, she noticed a few familiar faces.

Of course - she remembered that she was on a field trip with her Western Civilization class. All of her classmates held small notebooks and pens, and, much to her embarrassment, Buffy realized her hands were empty. A few feet away, Willow and Xander stood before a large painting; Xander pointed animatedly to various parts of the painting, while Willow nodded agreeably and took notes.

Self-conscious about her unpreparedness, Buffy looked at her empty hands and wondered anxiously if there was going to be a test. Mr. Parks, their teacher, was known for his "pop quizzes" after a field trip and she was already on thin ice with Snyder - she could not afford a bad grade, not now.

"Excuse me, I think you dropped this." There was a light touch on her elbow and Buffy turned.

Tara stood behind her, she held out one hand with a notebook and pen.

"Oh, thank you, Tara!" Tara smiled warmly at her and Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion, "I didn't realize that you were in this class…or at our school."

"Oh, I'm not." Tara assured her quickly and Buffy nodded.

"Oh, okay. Did you see Willow? She's just over th-" Buffy pointed over to the left but faltered when she did not see her friends. "that's odd…they were there a moment ago…" Quickly, her eyes scanned the room and she nodded when she found them. However instead of being just a few feet in front of her, they were now further away, practically on the other end of the room and almost out sight.

"Oh, they moved." She said, lamely.

"They didn't move, Buffy," Tara reached out, put a hand on her arm and Buffy stopped. "You did. You left them behind."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know." Tara smiled kindly.

Buffy glanced at Willow and Xander again. They seemed so far away and she felt so…

"You are not alone, Buffy."

"I'm not?"

Tara shook her head. Then leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Can I share a secret?" Buffy nodded.

"We have your back."

"We?"

Tara looked over Buffy's shoulder and Buffy turned her head to follow her gaze.

Then, she gasped.

"Of all forms of art, tapestry was always my favorite," the voice, familiar and beloved, said.

With a cry, Buffy ran and threw herself into her mother's arms.

"God, I've missed you so much." The words were muffled as Buffy's face was pressed up against her mother's stomach.

He mother chuckled in response as she pulled away from Buffy. Buffy tilted her head to look at her mom and was confused by the skewed perception. Why was her mom so tall all of a sudden?

"I told you I was meeting your class here for your field trip, remember? I am sorry I was late…my meeting did not end as early as anticipated. And what is this you said about missing me? Just this morning, weren't you the one telling me that you were eight years old and too grown up to kiss your mom goodbye at school?"

Buffy nodded, pigtails swinging and green eyes cast down toward the floor. Without warning, she launched into her mother's arms again.

"I know I did, but I feel like I haven't seen you in years and years and years."

Her mother's arms tightened around her and Buffy smiled at the reassurance she felt. After a few moments they turned to look at the tapestry that dominated the entire wall. Vibrant colors seemed to leap from the fabric and she became entranced by the on the dazzling display of art in front of her. She frowned when she noticed a spot where the threads bunched up.

"It's pretty. But look-" Buffy pointed to a flaw, "there is a knot. Knots are bad, right?" She reached out to touch, but her mother gently moved her hand down.

"We are not allowed to touch, Buffy. We can look and admire, but never touch."

"Why?"

"It's is delicate piece of art. If you stand far away, you can see the whole picture. But if you look closely, then you can see how it is made up of countless threads woven into each other."

Intrigued, Buffy stepped closer. Upon closer inspection, what she thought was a knot was more like a snag. A single thread poked out of the tapestry, looped in a few places and slightly bunched in others.

Her small fingers hovered over the flawed section.

"If we were to walk backwards, it would seem insignificant and unnoticeable. But as we walk closer…"

Buffy's nose was almost touching the tapestry but she was still careful not to touch. She felt the gentle touch on her hair and she turned to grin at her mother.

"I'm glad you came, Mommy."

Her mother gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Me too, baby."

Sadness flitted across the older woman's face. Something in her expression worried Buffy and she griped her mother's hand tightly.

"You don't have to go away, do you?"

"I am afraid so, sweetheart, but I promise to stay as long as I can, okay?"

Although her lower lip trembled, Buffy nodded bravely and her pigtails swayed with the movement.

Joyce straightened and the pair began to walk around the room. Buffy wasn't sure how much time had passed, but gradually she became aware that they were not alone.

"Mommy! Look, it's Anya!" Excited, Buffy bounced up and down while she pointed. Anya was turned away and faced the open doorway to the room.

"I see her." Her mother smiled and nodded with encouragement. "You can go see her Buffy, it's okay." Her mother pulled her into a hug and Buffy wanted to snuggle deeper into her embrace but she resisted. She was a big girl, she reminded herself, and her mother wasn't going anywhere.

Her mother released her and Buffy turned away.

"Anya! Do you go to my school too?" Anya turned around and Buffy realized that they stood almost eye to eye. Funny, when she was with her mom, she felt so little, but next to Anya, she felt more adult like.

Anya gave Buffy a happy smile, but her eyes quickly slid away to look out the doorway. Immediately, her expression changed to wistful.

Curious as to what had grabbed her friend's attention, Buffy peered around Anya. There didn't seem to be anything interesting out of the room, just the usual cluster of high school students milling around the exhibits. With a frown she noticed that Xander and Willow seemed even further away, seemingly oblivious to the man in a tuxedo who wandered around the room as he offered an assortment of cheeses.

Something about the picture it presented seemed funny to Buffy and she turned back to her mother to point this out. Her hilarity quickly evaporated when she realized her mother wasn't to be seen.

"Anya? Did you see where my mother went?" At her words, Anya turned to her.

"Non preoccupatevi, la madre rimane nelle vicinanze." She said, her smile reassuring.

"Ummm…come again?" Buffy frowned. Why couldn't she understand?

"Non preoccupatevi," Anya patted her hand, then waved her other hand in a circular motion in the air "la madre rimane nelle vicinanze."

"Anya, what's wrong? I can't understand you."

Anya bit her lip, then shrugged. "Cosa devo sapere? IO sono solo una vecchia cameriera."

Buffy began to feel alarmed. Something didn't seem right…

"Anya? I can't understand…"

Understanding dawned upon the other girl's face and she rummaged in her purse, until she pulled out a book. "Credo che questo sarà utile."

She pressed the book into Buffy's hands and smiled like she had done a good dead.

"What is this for?"

Again, Anya shrugged. "Destino vi dirà."

"I don't understand…please, I don't know what you are saying…"

Anya looked behind Buffy and then gave a sad smile before she pulled Buffy into a quick embrace.

"Avere un viaggio sicuro!" she whispered into Buffy's ear.

Just as quickly, she released Buffy. Once again, her eyes strayed to something behind Buffy and her expression became rebellious. She tapped the book, pulled Buffy into another hug and whispered more words into Buffy's ear.

"Credo che questo sarà utile."

This time, when Buffy looked at the book, she understood. She looked up to tell Anya, but her friend was gone.

* * *

The morning sun streamed through the gossamer curtains and Buffy lifted a hand to shade her eyes so they could adjust to the brightness.

Groggily, she focused on the digital numbers that glowed on her bedside clock and blinked with surprise. For the first time since they had come to New York, she had slept longer than her usual three-hour span. Still on her side, she raised her arms and stretched when she rolled on to her back.

With an unexpected surge of energy, she bounded from her bed and threw on some clothes. After she dressed, she gathered her hair with one hand and put it into a ponytail. Quietly, she closed her bedroom door, mindful that others might still be asleep and lightly ascended the stairs. From the pantry, she pulled a water bottle and within a few minutes, she was headed toward the riding trails. Just as she arrived, she noticed Faith seated on the ground, one hand gripped an ankle while she stretched the muscles in her leg.

"Mind if join you?" Buffy asked.

"Not at all, B." Faith answered. She eyed Buffy critically then grinned approvingly. "You looked a little more rested, today."

Buffy seated herself on the grass. Her body faced the other Slayer, but she had put enough distance between them so their stretches would not be hindered by the other.

"I feel more rested." It was true, she noted with surprise. The restlessness of the last few months had gradually started to fade.

No more words were exchanged. Instead, the two women shared a comfortable silence as first they stretched then ran along the riding trails at a steady pace. When the trail allowed, they ran side by side; when the trail narrowed, they took turns as the lead.

The companionable silence continued, even as the run finished and they walked up the cobbled steps of the southern patio. With a carefree wave, they went their separate ways.

After a shower, she joined the other members of the household for breakfast.

Only Faith and Andrew were absent; Faith had mentioned she was going to have a long soak in the bathtub and Andrew, she knew, was probably still asleep. He had discovered that Buffy spent every night on the subways and in the tunnels to ensure there were no other vampires or demons still hanging around. Although she had Faith, he still insisted that he would wait up by the phone in case they needed help and demanded that she check in with him when she got home.

His late night vigil played havoc with his sleep schedule, so he had begun to sleep in and take the occasional nap. Buffy had pointed out that it wasn't necessary, but Andrew had assured her he used his late night time wisely – already his Paladin was on the road to redemption and he had made good progress on the quests his D & D GM (game master) had laid out for him.

Still, he didn't know about Spike.

Buffy was still too reluctant to discuss her occasional glimpses of Spike with anyone other than her journal._  
_

* * *

Cautiously, Andrew eased down the back stairs to the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs, he peered around the narrow hallway and was encouraged by the lack of people, hopeful that his mission for sustenance would be a success. He had been holed up in his room for the better part of the morning, reluctant to join in with the usual breakfast crowd and had finally caved to his body's need for food.

Still, he had learned that the bevy of Slayers with whom he shared accommodation were a crafty bunch and, for some reason unbeknownst to him, they had decided to hone their tracking skills and catch him off guard at every opportunity.

It was quite unnerving really.

Lately, their calculated and predatory gazes seemed directed toward him.

He couldn't understand it. Maybe if was still an evil genius intent on taking over the world, but he promised that he had no such ambitions anymore. Yet, something about him seemed to spark distrust. Lately, everywhere he turned there was a Slayer _stalking_ him. Mentally, he reviewed his actions over the last few days and found nothing that could be misconstrued as nefarious.

He put a hand to the kitchen door and pressed an ear to it as he listened intently for any sounds of activity. He planned to be fast, in and out…

"Whatchudoin?"

"SON-OF-A-SITH!" he screeched.

"Andrew!" Buffy mock scolded and waggled a finger before him. "I will have you know that there are many young ladies present in this household and they are not used to hearing such language."

"Will you keep your voice down," he hissed "I am trying to stay _under the radar_." The last few words were lowered to a panicked whisper.

"Under the radar?" Buffy took a moment to ponder the words. "Umm…going to need a little more information, here Andrew."

Upstairs, a few girls giggled and Andrew twitched nervously as his eyes darted around the narrow hallway. When the sounds grew louder, he grabbed Buffy's wrist and pulled her down the hall through a little-used door then closed the door behind them. The room, a small storage closet, had barely enough room for the both of them.

"Gee Andrew," Buffy said snarkily as she glanced around the small space, "You really know how to make a girl feel special.'

"Quiet." He pleaded. "They'll hear you."

"Who will hear me? And why the secrecy?" Buffy titled her head and hear the clicking of a variety of slayer shaped shoes clatter in the hallway. Andrew tensed as voices became louder.

"…like he's vanished or something." One voice said. Other girls offered a hum of agreement.

"He is wily, I will give him that. Has anyone been able to corner him?"

Various chorus' of "nun-uh"s answered her.

"Why is he avoiding us? All we want is the scoop!"

"Yeah. Are he and Buffy really doing the horizontal mambo?"

Buffy and Andrew exchanged shocked glances, each mouthing the words "horizontal mambo" silently.

"They must be! Have you seen how _happy_ she's been? I swear I heard her laugh three times yesterday."

Buffy frowned. She's laughed before...hasn 't she?

"Don't be so dramatic, Sue. Buffy's laughed before."

"Yeah, but only a little. I haven't seen her laugh, really laugh, since…"

There were a few coughs and shuffling of feet. After a few moments of silence someone spoke again.

"So…it's the only explanation. She and Andrew are bumping fuzzies and he _must_ be some kind of sex god, because…"

"I still think you all are wrong. I mean, it's Andrew…_Andrew._ There is no way that he is _that_ good between the sheets."

Buffy scowled then a mischievous light came into her eyes. She reached behind her and pulled her hair from her ponytail then ran her fingers through the long tresses.

"What are you doing?" He mouthed to her.

Her smile spread wide across her face and she ran her hands through his hair. Before he could blink, she pulled the back of his shirt from the waistband of his pants and began to unbutton and re-button her shirt.

_I've got a bad feeling about this_ was his last thought before she pulled him roughly toward her while she pushed him against the door before she twisted the knob. As they stumbled out into the now crowded hallway he silently promised retribution.

"Oh!" she giggled, as if she had just noticed they were not alone.

She thought about making a few suggestive comments, but Andrew silently straightened his clothes and walked away with as much dignity as possible. She looked at the collection of flabbergasted slayers and winked.

"What can I say? I just couldn't help myself." She wiggled her eyebrows. "I really should go _apologize_ to him." The way she emphasized the word gave the implication on how she intended on making it up to him.

With a mysterious smile, she turned to follow her friend.

* * *

Later that afternoon, after Buffy had apologized to Andrew for embarrassing him and promised to _never_ do it again, she returned to her room for a cat nap.

Andrew spent the rest of his day in his room, until darkness fell outside and the room was lit by the screen of the computer monitor.

Fingers flew over the key board, seemingly independent of the body and, occasionally, the right hand moved to the mouse.

"There you are." He softly breathed.

Another _click_ of the mouse and the file began to download. The wait was short and when the file opened, he wasn't disappointed.

Immediately, he recognized the setting and remembered the day he had filmed this. It was actually one of the last clips he had filmed in Sunnydale. The next day, the power had gone out and a short while later, Sunnydale was swallowed into the ground, his beloved camera with it.

It was also the night that he thought about saving all of film onto Warren's server. It had been a tedious process to upload each clip and Andrew was embarrassed to admit that he blundered by never having labeled any of his clips.

To find a specific clip, he had to open each individual file saved on the server.

With the mouse, he clicked "play" and the once familiar room appeared on his screen.

_The image was a close up view of Andrew's face and wobbled briefly when Andrew made the necessary adjustments._

"_Will you stop fiddling with that bloody thing? Why do you want to record this anyways?" Spike's tone was curious rather than harsh, but when Andrew stepped backwards and the camera captured his face his expression was pensive._

"_It seemed like a good idea at the time." Andrew muttered the words quietly, but he was close enough to the camera that the words were picked up clearly. _

_Behind him, Spike hefted a sword and began to expertly cut it through the air. Andrew moved out of sight and the camera had a clear shot of Spike, who began to thrust the sword through the air as he dueled with an imaginary partner, a small smile on his face._

_Without a pause, Spike glanced to the side and spoke, "Make sure you get all that gear on. No sense in getting you all sliced up before the big event."_

"_What makes you think I can learn this stuff anyways?" Andrew's voice was muffled._

_Spike paused in mid-swing. _

"_You could leave, no one would think any less of you."_

_Andrew snorted, again off camera and Spike nodded._

"_Good point. Let me put it this way, no one would blame you."_

_This time Andrew's voice was clearer. "Would you leave?"_

"_I am sure it would make a lot of people happy if I did leave." Spike's lips twisted bitterly. "But I would never leave h-" He stopped and looked at his sword. Once again, he parried and evaded an imaginary foe. "Leaving is not my way, mate."_

"_I think she knows." Andrew's voice, muffled once again._

_Spike made no comment, but his eyes looked in Andrew's direction. There was silence for a moment, until Andrew stepped into the camera's view, a catcher's mask perched atop his head._

_Spike smiled. _

"_What happened to all of your 'extra-protection'? Where is all that gear you had me lug down here earlier?"_

_Andrew shrugged. "I was thinking-"_

"_-always a bad idea" Spike interjected, not unkindly, his words softened when he flashed a smile._

"_I was __thinking__," the last word had an extra emphasis, "that I can't wear all of that gear to the big fight, so I should probably learn to fight without it."_

_Spike extended his arm and pointed the sword toward Andrew's chest. _

"_That__ is the smartest thing I have ever heard you say." He gave an approving nod and Andrew beamed, pleased._

"_Besides," he began as he walked over the upright locker against the wall. The metal door creaked on unoiled hinges when he opened it. "I trust you. You said you were going to teach me how to use a sword." _

_Spike scowled. "Trust? Vampire, remember? The day you trust a vampire-"_

"_Pftt." _

"_What was that?"_

"_You heard me. Pftt."_

_Silence._

"_You had plenty of chances, Spike." Andrew frowned as he tried vainly to imitate some of the blonde vampire's earlier moves. "I am not strong or athletic, would not have a hope in hell of ever fighting you off but you haven't tried to kill me."_

"_I did once." Spike reminded him. _

"_Pftt. You were triggered by the First. Doesn't count."_

Andrew smiled as the clip continued to play. When it was finished, he copied the file onto a disk for Buffy.

* * *

Regretfully, Giles replaced the telephone receiver and tried to focus his thoughts, he knew the next decision was one not to be made lightly.

Outside of Kennedy's personal staff for the estate, he was only one of three males in a house full of girls. Robin, regretfully, had to stay in California. He had loose ends he needed to tie up, reports and statements that needed to be filled out for the state with regards to the high school.

Giles did not relish being the one to tell everyone that their brief respite was at an end because the real world (along with its very _real_ threats) awaited.

Evil, along with its minions, still existed and it was time to plan their strategy.

The seers in the Ireland coven had been unable to keep up with the sheer _quantity_ of newly called Slayers and Giles had been working day and night to organize the remaining members of the council so they would be in position to…to…_do something_. The sheer magnitude of the task ahead overwhelmed him.

Moving their base to Europe seemed like the best option and Giles had already begun to get the ball rolling on options for a suitable location. In fact, he admitted to himself that he was looking forward to the idea of creating a new council of Watchers.

After he had begun to reconnect with the remaining council members (they were few in number but their combined knowledge was irreplaceable), they had decided that it was time to set up a new base of operations in London.

It was time, he decided, for a Scooby meeting.

First, he sought out Xander and Willow.

For more than an hour, Giles laid out his plans, with Xander and Willow each marking their own notes and writing small lists.

The discussion continued as the three friends brainstormed. Willow offered to assist the coven with the location of newly called Slayers and Xander offered his expertise in finding a suitable location to meet their needs.

"We need to decide on the current Slayers…" Willow trailed off as she looked at Giles.

"Quite right." Giles agreed. "They won't be happy when they find out that their little vacation is over." They shared rueful looks.

"Well, once all of the decisions have been made, then Buffy can tell them."

"Buffy can tell who what?" Buffy strolled into the room.

"Ah Buffy," Giles smiled, genially. "I was just about to come find you. I got off the phone earlier with some of the Watchers in London and it is time to decide our next step."

Buffy strolled over to the table where Willow, Xander and Giles had spread out their notes. Casually, she moved a few items around with her forefinger as she scanned the variety of notes and lists that they had begun.

"Wow, you guys work fast. How long have you been working on this? An hour?" She had an orange in her hand and, with her thumb nail, she made a slit into the peel and watched a small burst of citrus perfume the air.

"An hour? Oh no, a bit longer than that I think…" he looked at his watched, surprised, "…closer to four hours."

"Four hours?" Buffy raised her eyebrows.

She pulled out a section of the orange and popped it into her mouth.

"Yes," Giles considered at the accumulation of the afternoon's work. "Actually, we made a lot of progress, I think. We decided that we are going to move our base of operations to London. Willow will go to Ireland and work with the coven in Ireland, Xander will help to rebuild the Watcher's council while you and I will remain in London. The rest will work itself out."

"It makes sense for Willow to go to Ireland, our highest priority will be locating the new Slayers. Xander, with his knowledge of building will be useful to inspect some of the damaged building to see if rebuilding is an option."

Giles beamed.

"Yes. We need to get everyone moved as soon as possible. We thought we should call a meeting and you could explain it to all of the Slayers." Buffy raised one eyebrow when she made eye contact with Giles.

"They look to you as their leader, of sorts." He explained.

"Do they?" She mused out loud, her voice quiet.

The trio nodded. Thoughtfully, Buffy continued to peel her orange, carefully laying the discarded scraps on her lap.

"What's the plan?"

Eagerly, Willow, Xander and Giles told her about their plans, proud of their decisions.

"You plan on leaving that quickly?" She looked down at the remaining section of orange in her lap and gently pulled a thick strand of pulp before popping the juicy bit into her mouth. "What happens when you get to England?"

Giles explained that they would have to find temporary housing for all of the girls. He would meet with the remaining council members and decide where to place the girls.

"How many council members and watchers are left?"

"Exact number is unknown as of yet. I have a few people scattered around Europe, placing calls and renewing contacts to see if there are more out there that have not checked in. I anticipate our arrival to be at the end of this week. The remaining council members will gather and we can decide where to place the girls."

"What about resources? Funds? How will we pay for things like accommodations and food for everyone?"

"I hardly think money will be an issue." Giles gave a small smile. "The council accounts are quite healthy."

"How healthy? Since the assassinations, can the accounts even be accessed?" she asked.

"Access is sort of set up as a chain or a line, as you will. At the top were the heads of council…Travers, Weatherby and Wyndham."

"Wyndham? As in Wesley Wyndham-Price?" Willow asked.

"Maternal Grandfather." Giles answered. "When members of the council pass away or retire, then the access is granted to next in line."

Buffy nodded. "Do you know who has the access now?"

"Two that I know about. Miss Markham, she is in based in Rome at the moment, deeply involved in some research and Duvall, currently in route from Berlin to London."

"Markham, that sounds familiar."

"Yes, she came out with Travers a few years back for…er."

"Ah, yes. My evaluation." Buffy's eyes hardened briefly. Then, she changed the subject. "What if some of the girls don't want to go where you place them?"

"I guess it's a possibility that a few of the girls might be …reluctant to accede with their placement," uncomfortable, Giles shifted. "But that's when they will look to you as an example. You, above all others, know what it means to sacrifice for your calling. You have filled your role admirably, Buffy."

"I think-" She began, but Giles waved his hand toward her and she blinked at his dismissal.

"We have it all planned, Buffy. All you will need to do is lay everything out for the other Slayers. Sure there will be a few weeks of confusion, perhaps even a month, until all of the details are sorted out, but I expect you will be able to keep the girls occupied."

"Training." Willow supplied, excited. "You could set up a training schedule for them-"

Buffy scooped her discarded orange peel from her lap, her face devoid of all expression and stood.

"I decline."

"Decline? I don't understand."

"You can't decline, Buffy. Now more than ever, the girls need a leader…"

"So, _you_ lead them." She shrugged. Giles whipped off his glasses, eyebrows furrowed.

"Buffy, be reasonable. You are The Slayer-"

"A." Buffy interjected.

"-and as such…what?"

"You said The Slayer, Giles. I am not The Slayer, not anymore. I am just a Slayer as in "one of many"."

"True as that might be-"

Buffy chuckled darkly, without humor. "There is no '_might'_ about it Giles."

"Buffy, you are arguing semantics." he accused quietly. Before she could comment, he continued "the fact remains that you are The Sla- _A_ Slayer" he conceded hastily at the expression on her face "with the most experience. You have a duty…"

"A duty." She repeated the word dully, suddenly weary and trapped. _For how long?_

"I beg your pardon?" Giles asked.

She realized she had spoken the words out loud.

She shook her head, ready to brush her words aside with a "nevermind" when the air around her stirred slightly.

_Cigarettes._

Dimly, she realized the Willow and Xander repeated Giles's question and all were stared expectantly at her.

Cool air stirred the hairs at her nape, enhancing the smell of cigarettes and for a single moment it felt as if Spike stood at her side. He never knew just how much strength she got from him during those horrific last days in Sunnydale, how, just by being nearby, he helped her to stand a little taller and shoulder the burden of Slayer, when all she wanted to do was scream.

"For how long?" the strength and determination in her voice surprise her but she could almost hear a whisper of "_that's my girl, give 'em hell Slayer. They have dished it out for long enough._"

"I don't understand." Giles frowned uncertainly.

"It's a simple question. How long? Does my duty have an expiration date? I've shouldered "duty" through eight years and just as many apocalypses, if not more. What's the expiration date?"

"Expiration date?" Giles asked faintly.

"Sure. I mean, before me the prophecy said "one girl, in all the world", so the expiration date was death. But now there are hundreds, possibly more. So this "_duty_" doesn't have to mean until death."

She was hardly speaking to them anymore, rather she was speaking the words out loud, to herself, testing a theory that she realized had been at the back of her mind for weeks now.

"The possibilities are endless. We could be like a…democracy of sorts. Girls could choose the destination. No more "placement" or dictation of orders by a council. We could set up a website or video conference where the girls could get together and share information about the demons in an area. Hell, they could even volunteer to be in _pairs._"

"Buffy, I really don't think-" In an imitation of Giles' earlier action, she waved her hand and continued.

"The Slayers, they could be their own council. The Slayers Council – with an elected Slayer at the head! Oh my God, Giles, do you know what this means?"

Giles sank down slowly in to a chair. "I really don't." he said weakly.

"It means I need to call a Slayer meeting." She said, excitement on her face.

"Faith!" she called out, "Put out your damned cigarette and get your ass in here."

The brunette Slayer stepped through the barely opened doors and met the eyes of her sister Slayer.

"Do you think it-" Buffy chewed her lip, uncertainly.

"Hell yeah, B! It's fucking brilliant."

Slowly, a wide grin spread across each of the Slayers' faces.

"Should we-" Buffy asked as Faith pulled out a cell phone and began to punch a number.

"Already on it, B. How long?"

Buffy looked at her watch.

"One hour. The Music Room, I think."

Faith nodded and both girls turned and walked out the door.

"What just happened here?" Willow asked.

Xander leaned back, a small smile on his face.

"The times, they are a-changin'" he said.

* * *

Joe called together a few of the grooms and together they had arranged the furniture in the music room to accommodate the seating for their meeting.

"Kennedy has stables here too?" one of the Slayer had gasped when she noticed the groom's uniform. She was part of a cluster of girls gathered outside of the room.

"Of course she does," Vi had giggled and winked boldly to one young groom in particular, who returned her wink. "You would know this if you hadn't spent your whole time out near the pool since we got here. I've been having daily lessons for _weeks_."

She nudged Cho-Ahn, who waved to another groom and purred throatily in Chinese. A few girls around them nodded in agreement; there were some things that did not require a translation. When Vi spied Buffy, she broke away from the group.

"Buffy, can I ask you a question? In private?" She exhaled in relief when Buffy nodded and gestured toward the patio doors.

"Let's go out here." They walked outside. The patio outside led to a secluded garden that was surrounded by walls covered with vines. Both girls made their way to the gazebo In the middle of the garden and sat on the padded circular bench that lined its interior.

Vi took a deep breath, unsure about how her request would be received.

"I know we are about to have a big meeting and, judging by the tension between you and Giles, I think it will be about what is going to happen next. If we are going to be discussing our futures, then I have a request."

Buffy nodded, not surprised that Vi had picked up on the tension. Giles had tried to get her alone, he wanted to talk to her first to find out what she was going to say, but Buffy told him that it wasn't necessary.

However, she was unprepared for Vi's request and honestly, she was chagrined that it had never occurred to her before. As Vi had talked, Buffy had widened her eyes, appalled.

"I think we need to have a translator present. Cho-Ahn has learned a lot of English in the last few weeks, but it is limited to one or two word phrases. When everyone is in a large group, speaking quickly and talking over each other, she cannot follow along. If we are making big decisions, she needs to understand what is going on and be able to voice her own opinions."

Vi paused, as if unsure about Buffy's reaction. She was encouraged when Buffy nodded.

"If a translator was present, she would be able to do this. Giles has tried to take her aside and explain to her, but, I think his grasp of the Chinese language is not as…" Vi wrinkled her nose, searching for the right word, "...comprehensive as he thinks it is. Cho-Ahn has tried to tell him that she thinks she should have a translator but each time, he just pats her on the hand and _thanks_ her for the compliment."

"Vi, do you speak Chinese?"

"No." The young Slayer flushed. "One of the grooms, Tim, is Chinese-American. I have learned a little Chinese, just as Cho-Ahn has learned a little English, but Tim translates a lot of our conversations for us too."

"Tim." Buffy looked at Vi. "Does Tim know about Slayers?"

Vi nodded.

"Most of the staff does. It's not like we haven't exactly been discrete since we moved in here. From what I can gather, as soon as Kennedy was called her father informed the staff."

"Vi, you did good. Let's go meet Tim."

* * *

Of all of the roles she had assumed in her life, this was the one she hated the most and it was a role that she had thought she would never have to assume again. However, like any seasoned military officer, she had learned from her mistakes and now stood unwavering before the small collection of friends as she assessed their various expressions.

There were a few people who would be unhappy with how she would begin the meeting, but she knew what needed to be done. After a deep breath, she began.

"Thank you everyone. I know this was short notice…" A low rumble from the back told her that Tim, the groom, had begun to translate for Cho-Ahn. Buffy got the young Slayer's grateful look and was glad she had listed to Vi's suggestion. She spoke for a few minutes then directed her attention to Giles.

"We do, however, need more information. So, Giles – we need to know what resources are available. Money- how much is there? Are there any council owned facilities and where are they located? Where are all the watchers that survived the attack on the first and who are they? I need you to get on the phone and start networking, hopefully we can have a report by end of tomorrow. Be prepared to present after dinner. We will all meet then."

She stopped and looked at her Watcher. Giles nodded but became uncomfortable when every Slayer turned to look at him. The silence stretched out and he realized that he had been given his orders and was now dismissed. He rose awkwardly, protest forming in his mind when Buffy nodded, grateful and relieved.

"Thank you, Giles. It will be valuable information and with your contacts I knew you would be just the person for the job. But, it is a lot of work, I know." Her gaze shifted to Willow and Xander. "Will and Xander will help you."

With the same awkwardness, Willow and Xander rose and walked toward the doors. Just before they all left, Willow looked over her shoulder at Kennedy, but her girlfriend was focused on Buffy as she began to talk.

"It's time for you to talk our future," she began. She gestured to the spread of food on the tables behind her. "Grab some food, girls. I have a feeling that it is going to be a long night."

~SPUFFY~

The doors closed behind them, Giles, Willow and Xander paused.

"Does anyone else have the feeling that we were not wanted?" Willow asked, just as Dawn and Andrew turned the corner in the hallway. Dawn had hands full of long, rolled paper while Andrew carried a stack of legal sized notepads and a few boxes of pens and pencils.

They entered the room briefly, but exited less than a minute later.

"Were you kicked out too?" Xander joked half-heartedly.

Andrew gave a blank look then shook his head.

"We don't belong in there."

"You might not, but I think Xander, Willow, Dawn and myself have earned the right to be in there," Giles responded, mulishly.

"Giles," Dawn placed a hand over the older man, "It's not personal –"

"The hell you say!" he exclaimed, resentfully.

"It's not. It's a _Slayer_ meeting. We don't belong in there." Dawn gave him a disappointed look, then left, Andrew trailing behind her.

* * *

Wearily, Andrew clicked on the last file on the server. He had been at this task for days, cataloging through the plethora of information stored. Each file had been viewed and sorted into different categories…Spike, Useful Information, Useless Information. Any videos had had found that contained Spike went into the first file, any files or documents that contained information that Andrew thought could be or would be useful went into the second and everything else went into the last. For all his whimsy, when it counted, Andrew liked to keep things simple.

He opened the file, clicked play to view, he assumed yet another "Useless" clip of Warren on a rant for "Sunnydale Domination"

The image was clear, the focus precise and the subject…was not what he expected.

"Hello Andrew." Spike said.

"Son-of-a-sith" Andrew whispered.

Spike chuckled. "You call that cursing? Did you learn nothing these last few months around me in Sunnyhell?"

Cautiously, Andrew looked around his room.

"Stop your gaping, Boy-Wonder. I don't know how long the battery is good for on this thing, but I might only have minutes left so listen up and take notes if you need to."

"I, William Pratt, of trigger-free mind and perfect body, do hereby proclaim my last word and testament-"

"Son-of-a-sith" Andrew repeated. Before he could hear anymore, he clicked pause. Buffy needed to see this.

* * *

**A/N**: There is no Anya to English translation yet, but all will be revealed in time.

I apologize for the lack of Spike POV here, but I will try to make it up in the next chapter. Although this chapter might seem like filler, I tried to focus on the present for story progression purposes. I wanted to explore the relationship between Giles and Buffy as well as Buffy's feelings about being thrust back into the role of General. I think, it was clear at the end of the series (ignoring season 8 & 9 comics), that Buffy felt like she was _done._ I am sure she envisioned early retirement and perhaps finding a career like any normal girl her age. Her decisions in this chapter as well as the chapters ahead have Buffy ref-defining her role on _her terms_. How will this affect her relationship with the Scoobies and the other Slayers? That is for me to know and for you to review…er I mean read.

Btw…If you squint, you will see some foreshadowing for Part 2 in this chapter. *squints hard and tilts head* Yep, definite foreshadowing here.

Stay Tuned…


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